Survival of the Fittest
by the morrighan
Summary: Stranded on a planet the team finds it takes more than strength to survive.
1. Chapter 1

Survival of the Fittest

Pink.

Moira O'Meara focused on the twitching nose. It was a rounded triangle in shape. Slightly moist. A pale shade of pink surrounded by brown fur, by whiskers. She drew back the zoom lens on her camcorder. Stared at the elongated teeth protruding from either side of the rabbit's mouth. Watched it munch on short blades of grass, undisturbed.

"Wow. That is one impressive rodent," Evan Lorne commented, using his binoculars to watch the small animal several yards from their position.

"No."

"No?" he questioned her refusal. "You don't find those huge teeth impressive?"

"The teeth, yes. Very. But it's not a rodent. That's a common misconception."

"Oh oh," Evan groaned, lowered the binoculars. He rested his forehead on his arms.

"Rabbits and hares are not related to rodents," Moira launched into her explanation, oblivious to her companion's obvious disinterest. "They have their own order. _Lagomorpha. Lagomorphs_ of the family _Leporids. _Rodents have only one pair of incisors. Rabbits have two pairs of incisors on each side of their jaws. The teeth grow throughout their lives. Their teeth also have enamel all the way around them, unlike rodents. So the two species are quite distinct and not the same."

"Okay, got it. Can we–" Evan tried to head her off, but Moira kept going.

"This particular rabbit has some extreme, or rather unusual dentition resulting in the oversized example we see here. An anomaly, unless we can discover more. It could be a genetic mutation, or aberration. Or an adaptation to the ecological niche it inhabits. You know, Evan, the history of evolution is told through the teeth. Each development in the long process of–"

"Enough, doctor, please!" Evan exclaimed, elbowing her. He stood, unfolding from his crouched position on the hillside. "Man I will be glad when Sheppard is back to take the edge off."

"What?" Moira nearly dropped the camcorder. She looked up to see his smirk. "Evan Lorne!"

He laughed at her expression, at once outraged and flustered. "I'm serious, Moira. I know it's been two weeks since he's been gone. Two long, long weeks," he exaggerated, making her frown. "You are still seeing him, right? I mean you didn't chase him out of Atlantis with one of your biological lectures?"

Moira smirked, but frowned. Moved to her feet. "No, I did not. Ha ha. I am still seeing him." She studied him. "Why would you...oh I get it." She pointed at him. "You think I'm just one of his lots, er some women, don't you? Well, I'm not. I mean...I mean, it doesn't feel like that." She brushed past him, embarrassed, oddly uncertain. She stared out across the fields. The grass swayed gently in the timid breeze.

"To you I'm sure it doesn't, Moira."

"And what does that mean?" she snapped, turning back to him.

"Nothing. Forget it. Let's go." He headed down the hill at a leisurely pace.

Moira sighed, followed him. Caught up to stroll beside him. "Evan...what is the duration?"

Evan nearly stumbled, found his footing. "Excuse me?"

Moira was serious. "The duration. Of his...um...relationships. I mean..." she faltered, swallowed. Recalling her drunken declaration of love she inwardly winced. "You know."

"I don't know," he retorted calmly. "The colonel's private life is like covert ops. No one knows. He's very...circumspect. In those things. I only know what I've overheard. Speculation. Talk. Um...a few days. Maybe a week. Maybe two. Do you think he's going to break up with you?

Moira, I didn't mean to upset you. Honestly, I don't know anything."

"No. I don't think that, I just..." She sighed. Considered. "We've been together longer than that...than two weeks, I mean. And I...said...and he...didn't...I...I shouldn't have let it go this..."

She sighed. "Forget it."

"I'm sorry, Moira," Evan said, touching her arm, stopping her. "I keep putting my foot in it, don't I? Let's go back to the city. Maybe we can convince Carson to place us back on active duty. These trips to the mainland must convince him that we are both fit for off-world travel."

"Growing restless, are we?" she asked, smiling. Pushing aside her own worries.

"Yeah. Very. There's nothing to do in the city."

"Not even your intern?"

"Moira!" he scolded. She laughed. He smiled. "Well, yes, there is that. But that's only at night, not during the day."

"You guess? Geez...maybe your duration is a few days too."

He laughed. "Hmm...I don't think so. Even I couldn't keep it up for that long."

"Evan? You..." she stared, realizing what he implied. Hit his arm. "Men!"

He laughed heartily. "What?" he asked in complete innocence.

Once in the city they crossed along the 'Gate room. Evan caught her arm, stopping her as the wormhole engaged, shooting the matter stream into the air. "So....should I list this rodent, oh shit, I mean this rabbit as a creature of the night?"

"Come again?"she asked, as they resumed their walk. "Oh!" She laughed. "No! It is not a vampire rabbit!"

"A rabbit with fangs," he argued. "I rest my case."

She sighed. "Fine. Put vampire rabbit in your report if you dare. But don't come crying to me when Weir reads it and decides to put you..." Her words trailed off into silence as John Sheppard and his team emerged through the Stargate, stepping out of the shimmering pool of light. Her gaze locked onto John. Locked as he met her gaze. Locked as his smile changed in tenor. As his gaze had a smouldering, sensual intensity that roved over her. She stared at his unkempt dark hair. His full gear. TAC vest, P90 slung over his arm. The shadowy stubble lining his jaw. He briefly, oh so briefly licked his lips.

"Moira. Wall," Evan warned in an even voice.

Moira was riveted, had forgotten she was still walking. At the last moment she turned her head, put up her palm to brace herself as she smacked into the wall. "Wall. Yes, yes it is. It is a wall," she lamely covered, patting it. "Solid Lantean construction. Integral to the functioning of the city and this room, but I'm no architect. Well, I can't stand here all day talking about this wall, I've got things to do, to report, to, to, to...I'll just go,"she stammered, running out of things to say. Risked a glance. Everyone was staring at her. John's smile was full of mirth.

Quickly she strode out of the room. Evan followed. Out of earshot he finally released the laugh he had been holding. "Very nice, Moira. Very smooth. I'm sure no one suspects a thing."

"Shut up, Evan," she said mildly. Laughed. "It's only been two weeks! Why am I suddenly acting like a teenager with a crush? Like an idiot? No! Don't answer."

Back in the 'Gate room laughter erupted. Rodney McKay shook his head. "Wow...that was just...odd. Moira must have a lot on her mind. Being that distracted," he reasoned.

"Very distracted," John agreed, schooling his expression, dousing his merriment. Anticipation.

He hefted his P90. "Ordnance turn-in. Then we'll debrief in one hour. Not that there is much to say."

"That was the most boring place I have ever–" Ronon Dex began.

"I found it refreshing for once not being shot at, or viewed suspiciously," Teyla Emmagan countered, shaking her head. "For once we did not have to resort to violence."

"I know. Like I said. Boring," Ronon argued. Grinned at her.

Teyla rolled her eyes. "Men!"

John strolled along the hallway, quickening his steps once he was out of sight. He just missed Moira as she exited her room. Her fast stride took her round the corner, long ponytail swaying wildly back and forth in time to her hips. "Moira!" he called, lengthening his stride to catch her.

Moira turned, waited as people passed. "John." She smiled. "How was the mission?"

"Boring. How was the mainland?"

"Interesting." She began to walk towards a transporter. He walked beside her. "The animal life is varied but nothing even remotely prehistoric," she began, as they passed other people. "All of the animals were recognizable and more than likely from Earth. Do you know what is interesting, Colonel Sheppard?" she continued as they entered the transporter and she pressed the screen to choose her destination. "What is interesting is that we haven't found much evidence of original Pegasus fauna, apart from a few instances, like your Iratus bugs. You think there would be some kind of aboriginal inhabitants," she kept talking as they exited, found themselves alone in yet another hallway, "or life forms that we couldn't even imagine being in a different galaxy and all oh John!" She whirled, hugged him. Kissed him.

"Moira," he managed to say before another kiss engulfed his mouth. He eagerly returned her kisses, pulling her against him. But between his TAC vest and his holstered sidearm she could not get too close to him. He could not feel the press of her body against his.

Moira broke the kiss, freed herself and turned to walk as people approached. Resumed smoothly

"or at least some kind of cross-breeding, you know, from interbreeding of species. Maybe a hybrid species. Like the Wraith. Well, not like the Wraith but a similar situation wherein a native species joins with a non-native species to create a new species. So far we haven't really encountered anything like that." She paused, finding herself alone. Turned to view him several feet away, staring. "Colonel? Are you coming?"

John broke from his stunned daze as her words flowed over him, through him, seemingly negating the brief moment of passionate exchange they had just shared. He glanced at the people passing him to enter the transporter. "I was," he laconically answered, stepping towards her.

Moira smiled, turned to lead him into the botany lab. "Doctor Parrish, I was just explaining to Colonel Sheppard about our findings on the mainland," she informed, moving to a microscope.

"Could you please elucidate your own discoveries?"

"With pleasure, Moira. Colonel Sheppard, there was nothing too extraordinary on the mainland. The plants mostly originated on Earth, are in fact the same species of plant life that we know so well. Proving once again that nearly all life was transplanted from our galaxy to this."

John had a pained expression on his face. "Like the animals there are few natives to Pegasus," he summarized. Glanced at Moira who was watching him, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

"Yes, colonel!" Matthew Parrish warmed to his subject. "Several varieties, however, unlike the animals are native to this galaxy. But not on the mainland. On other planets. The fungus and lichen, for example, are almost universally different in structural composition to our–"

"Fascinating as that is, Doctor Parrish, weren't you going to show me something, Doctor O'Meara?" John hastily interrupted. He waited, expression impatient, ready to turn sour. But a suggestive glint flashed in his brilliant green eyes.

"Oh...was I?" she teased. "Oh yes! Yes! I'm afraid I left it upstairs, Colonel Sheppard. Could you accompany me back to...oh, you could wait here and Doctor Parrish could explain to you how the higher plants are not native."

"I'd be delighted, Moira! Yes, the higher plants forms, such as the ferns, the grasses, particularly the angiosperms are clearly from Earth and have no cross-cultivation with the–"

"I'll accompany you!" John stated, nearly shouting to drown out the botanist. "If you insist," he groused. Motioned with his hand. Moira nodded, quickly exited and walked back down the hall to the transporter. He followed, shaking his head. Scowled as they had to share the transporter with other scientists, all talking at once. He stood next to Moira, glanced at her. She was trying not to laugh, met his gaze and then stared ahead of them. He bit back his own smile.

Moira stepped out with the rest. They moved as one down the hallway. She glanced at John who walked beside her. "Which room?" she whispered.

"Yours," he replied, just as quietly.

She led him there, slowing her steps to let the others pass, ignore them. Quickly she opened her door, darted inside. He followed on her heels, closed the door with a wave of his hand over the panel. She turned to him, smiled. "John. Are you sure you don't want to hear about the evolutionary diversity of the plant life in this galaxy?"

"Positive, Moira, you–" he began, stepping towards her but she stepped back from him.

"Was your mission that boring? You were gone two weeks so I find it highly unlikely it was anything but boring. You must have found something to...what's this?" She stepped to him, touched his bare arm where a purplish bruise was fading.

"Nothing. I didn't come here to talk about the mission, Moira. Or the mainland." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her.

"Ow! Your gun!" she complained, drawing back from him.

"That's not my gun," he countered with a dazzling smile.

She laughed, pushed him. "It is, John." She touched his low slung holster on his thigh. The firearm protruded. "Unless your anatomy has significantly been altered."

He laughed, unbuckled the holster's twin straps on his thigh, the belt at his waist. Set the gun on the table. He removed his earpiece, set it there too as her hand ran up his back. "Sorry."

"Wait." She stepped back again as he turned to embrace her. "Aren't you even going to remove that?" She tapped the hard TAC vest. "Or at least shower?" She sniffed, wrinkling her nose "Two weeks, John. Come on."

He laughed, pulled her against him. "No." He kissed her. "I thought you liked me rough and ready, Moira. You did just walk into a wall."

She laughed. "Yes...but now you–"

He kissed her again. Hands sliding down to grab her rear, lift her off her feet. She yelped in surprise. He placed her on the bed. "I want you like this," he informed her, pushing her gently backwards, fingers flying to the zipper on her navy pants. "I want you naked beneath me, while I am like this." He unbuttoned her pants, unzipped. Yanked them down, down off her moving legs. Eyed the lacy navy panties.

"John, you, you..." she squirmed but he was on top of her now, kissing her deeply. Thrusting against her. Her body rose to meet his. She gasped as his fingers slid up her navy shirt. His mouth wandering across her skin now, to tease the scar on her side. To go lower. Lower. Fingers playing at her panties, making her squirm, moan, rock up and down. "John, oh John," she breathed when his earpiece crackled to life on the table.

"Colonel Sheppard? Copy?"

John moved quickly, as his fingers had slipped into the panties to probe. To make Moira arch, squirm, nearly cry out in a rush of desire. Her breathless exclamation of pleasure was swallowed as John slid up to capture her mouth with his. To silence her ecstatic cries and swallow his own moan of impending arousal. He freed her, rolled, scooted to the edge of the bed to grab the earpiece as the voice sounded again. "Copy, sargent What is it?" he asked, trying to sound annoyed but his voice was strained.

Moira gasped, just now realizing what had interrupted them. She closed her legs, senses whirling. She had been lost in his seductions. The smell of him. The sweat, the maleness, the musk of desire, the trace of cologne. The feel of his hungry mouth. The scratch of his stubbly face against her skin. The persistent probing of his fingers. The heat of his body on hers.

"Doctor Weir wants to debrief in thirty, sir."

"Fine. In thirty," John acknowledged, able to put the annoyance back into his voice. "Copy." He shut off the earpiece, set it aside. "Shit. I forgot I left that on." He scowled, fixing his pants.

She laughed behind him, sat up to pull down her shirt. "And you laugh at me, John. Well, at least you can shower now. And take off that damn vest. It's so hard!"

He smirked, met her gaze. "That's not the only thing, baby." He sighed. "Fine. This mission was very, very boring, despite the two weeks. Very routine. So the debrief won't last long."

"Hmm. This one better take longer," she coyly informed.

He laughed. Ran his hand up her bare thigh. "It will. Trust me." He kissed her, stood. Grabbed the holster, the gun, the earpiece.

"John...you don't have to come armed to my bed next time. At least not with that little ordnance," she teased. "As long as you come."

He smiled, met her gaze as she sat demurely on the bed, thighs pressed together now. "I'll remember that, Moira. And don't you worry. Only the big ordnance for you, doctor." As she laughed he moved to the door, left.

Moira reclined on the bed, anticipating the evening. Happy to have him back at last. She ran her hands down her body, still vibrant from their interrupted reunion. The door abruptly opened. She colored, sat up quickly, moving her hands off her body.

John smiled broadly. "Hey, no cheating. Unless I get to watch, of course."

She frowned at him. "Hilarious, John! What do you–"

"Cafeteria." He glanced at his watch. "Eighteen hundred." At her puzzled stare he sighed. Translated. "Six o'clock. Oh, and Moira," he grinned, " keep it in your pants, will you? Until ordered otherwise."

"I would, colonel, if I was wearing pants."

He laughed. Closed the door once more.

John strolled into the conference room, took a seat. Early for once he drummed his fingers on the table. Rubbed his stubbly chin. Dropped his hand to the table as voices floated up the stairs ahead of the speakers. Hearing Rodney's fast-paced ranting he smirked, sighed. Settled.

"And of course we had to investigate that," Rodney was saying as he led the others into the room, data pad under his arm, "because any excuse to go look for a new weapon is like candy to Sheppard. Oh, wow, he's here for once. So, where was I?" Rodney asked, taking his seat and resuming his narrative before anyone could answer. Or stop him. "And then we did have to go see if those ZPMs were in fact ZPMs which they were, by the way, but completely useless, completely irrelevant. Smashed in some cases and totally depleted. That trek took three days. I wonder why none of these societies have even managed to develop even the most rudimentary of vehicles. Heck, even a bicycle would have been an improvement over any–"

"Rodney," Elizabeth tried to intervene, exchanging an amused glance with John as she took her seat.

"–kind of pathetic cart or horse. Most of the time we end up walking. I think we need to institute a new policy of using our Jumpers more often on these kinds of missions where we know that we are going to be stuck in some backwater agricultural society with only the barest beginnings of what one could call civilization."

"So there was nothing," Elizabeth tried again as the physicist finally took a breath. "Just like your call-ins from the planet there was nothing."

"Yes," Ronon answered. Sat next to Teyla. "Nothing."

"The people were friendly, however, and did the best that they could. They have very little in the way of resources and–" Teyla tried to ameliorate.

"Very little? Try nothing!" Rodney objected. "I'm telling you, Elizabeth, we need to re-think our strategies in terms of these missions! I can't be pulled from my lab on these wild goose chases after mythical ZPMs that turn out to be nothing!"

"There is more to these missions than the acquiring of ZPMs," Elizabeth reminded. "We are also trying to make new friends, new allies in our fight against the Wraith. And every ally is important to us, no matter how underdeveloped their technology may be." Teyla gave her a graceful nod, a smile.

"Maybe," Rodney admitted, not entirely convinced. "But what I'm saying is–"

"What you're saying is we don't need to be wasting our time on backwater worlds when another team could have gone to M19532 and completed this mission just as well as we did," John finally intervened.

"No! What I'm saying is that a lower echelon team could as easily completed this...oh. Yes. That is what I'm saying," Rodney realized.

Elizabeth sighed. "Did you at least establish a trading accord with these people?"

"Yes," Teyla answered, glancing at Rodney before he could reply. "They can provide us with some of their crops in return for better tools and medicines. And more importantly they are allies now and will keep us informed of any Wraith in the area."

"They have more to gain from this alliance then we do," Ronon remarked.

"That may be true, but an alliance is not always about what we can get, or how much. It is more important to establish harmonious relations with as many planets as we can," Elizabeth lectured.

"So says the diplomat," John quipped. Smiled. "So...does this qualify as a success?"

"No. I mean, yes, for the diplomacy part," Rodney acceded, "but no for the rest. Frankly, it was a waste of my time. I'm sorry, but it was. As I said, a lower echelon team could have and should have been handed this particular mission."

"I hate to admit it, but Rodney does have a point." All eyes shot to John as he spoke. He shrugged. "I'm just saying...we need to weigh our options. Divide our teams according to the specifics of each mission. Keep the specialists busy with their jobs unless they are needed on a mission."

"You see? John agrees with me." Rodney sat back, folded his arms across his chest.

"But I don't," Elizabeth stated, arching a brow. "Is there some reason the two of you want to remain behind in the city? Besides the obvious?"

"The obvious?" John asked, straightening in his chair. He glanced at his teammates. Ronon had a quick smirk on his face. Teyla still appeared annoyed. Rodney smug.

"Yes," Elizabeth answered. "Rodney wants to stay in his lab."

"Or the cafeteria," Ronon quipped. Laughter.

"Ha ha," Rodney flared. Stood. "That does remind me...I haven't had a proper meal in two weeks! You're lucky I haven't passed out or fallen into a comatose state or–"

"Don't you mean unlucky?" John asked. More laughter.

"By all means, go. We can't have you passing out, can we?" Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm sorry you felt you were wasting your time. Next mission we will find you a more exciting planet, all right?"

"Sounds good to me," Ronon agreed, following Rodney out of the room.

"It was not a waste of time," Teyla argued behind him.

"Were you serious, John? About reassessing mission specs?" Elizabeth asked. "Surely you see the value of allies, no matter what their level of development."

"Yes. I mean yes I see the value. But Rodney's points were valid, I have to admit." He glanced at his watch. "And he does have a point about transportation. I wish just one of these villages would have progressed to the point where they have a car."

She smiled. "Maybe Rodney and you can build one. I can only guess why you want to stay in the city."

"You can?" John asked, meeting her gaze.

"No doubt you want to push the Jumpers to their limits to see what they can do. Especially the underwater tests?"

"Oh. Yes," he agreed, feeling a sense of relief. "I bet we boost the power on those ships to–"

"Never mind. Go get some dinner."


	2. Chapter 2

Survival of the Fittest2

Moira entered the cafeteria quickly, glanced up at the clock. It read 6:30. She grabbed a tray, chose some food, desert, not really caring. She moved by many tables, most of them full. Passing John's she met his inquiring gaze, raised eyebrows. She shrugged, strolled to find a seat amidst a group of biologists.

John glanced at her, sipped his water. He finished his meal, debating how to proceed. And when. He scanned the room, a casual regard for the various residents as they ate, as they talked, as they argued amiably. Found his gaze lingering on Moira again as she was shaking her head, pointing her fork at another scientist.

"Why don't you just go to her?"

"What?" Ronon's blunt observation made him met his friend's amused stare.

"Moira. Just go to her. What's the big deal?"

"Nothing. I...there's no room," he lamely explained. Deciding not to deny it.

"Then make room," Ronon stated. Amused at the odd reluctance when usually his friend was so forth-coming in everything else.

John smiled. "Is it that obvious?"

"No. Not too obvious..." Ronon teased, smirking.

"Apart from her walking into a wall, you mean," John smiled.

Ronon shook his head. "No. Not that. I meant you. Apart from you staring at her like a man dying of thirst stares at a glass of water."

"Really? Me?" John asked, surprised.

Ronon laughed at his genuinely shocked expression. "You," he confirmed.

Moira tore her gaze from that table, wondering why Ronon was laughing so heartily. Saw John's dismayed, annoyed expression. She let her eyes linger on his disordered but combed hair, clean-shaven face. Blue t-shirt and grey pants. He drank some more water. Long swallows. Licked his lips without even being aware of it.

She shifted on her chair, impatiently willing him to her as the other biologists left. There was room at his table but she felt a strange reluctance to intrude. Remembering his preference for discretion. Instead she finished her food. Waited. Sipped some water. Waited. She stared at her ice cream. Inspiration made her smile.

"Why does it have to be such a secret?" Ronon asked, recovering from his hilarity.

John shrugged. "It's not. I mean, it doesn't have to be." He watched Moira eat a spoonful of ice cream. Deliberately, eyes meeting his she swirled the spoon in her mouth, pulled it out slowly, sucking on it.

"That doesn't seem to be the case."

"I like my private life private," he further explained, glancing back at her. She was eating another spoonful. Drew the spoon out slowly. Ran it along her lips. Licked the top edge of the spoon, tongue darting. Smiled at him. John inwardly groaned, drawn like a magnet. He looked at the table. At Ronon. "It's–"

"You don't have to explain. Enjoy." Ronon stood, patted John's shoulder, nearly knocking him out of the chair as he left.

Moira could not help but moan. She closed her eyes as the ice cream hit her tongue. It's mixed flavors a sweet delight. She audibly expressed her enjoyment in a wordless hum.

John heard the audible moan, the elongated vowel. Losing his resolve he stood, headed for her as his body reacted. He sat across from her. "If you two want to be alone I'll leave."

She opened her eyes. John smiled. She smiled, slipped the spoon from her mouth. "This is amazing, John!"

"It's only ice cream, Moira," he scolded. "I admit it can be good, very good, but I thought you only made those particular sounds when I slid my–"

"It's not just ice cream," she countered quickly before he could complete his sentence. "It's a chocolate caramel swirl with a pure caramel center that is incredible! Here. Try." She spooned a glob, held it towards him.

John glanced around the room. Most seemed absorbed in their own conversations, their own meals. He leaned across the table, opened his mouth and took hold. She slowly slid the spoon out of his mouth as his licked the ice cream off it. He let it melt on his tongue, swallowed.

"All right. Very, very good," he conceded, sat back to smile.

She laughed, shook her head. "You don't understand. You're a man."

"True," he agreed, watching her take another savoring bite. She ran the spoon along her lips when it was empty. Turned it to lick the caramel off the back.

"Hmm...oh John," she sighed, breathed deeply. Exhaled. "A sweet caramel center."

"Hmm...oh Moira," he countered, voice falling lower, "I do enjoy a sweet, sweet center."

"I don't know," she considered, sighed. "This might be better than sex, John."

"Really?" He raised a brow. "I don't think so, Moira." He snatched the carton of ice cream from her.

"John!" she protested, pouting.

"I don't like rivals," he reprimanded. "You can have some more later."

"Just a little more? Just a bite?"

"I said later," he refused, but smiled. "And yes, several bites if you want."

She smiled. "John...I took your advice."

He waited, but she was silent. Amusement in her brown eyes. A challenge. "Okay, it's been two weeks, Moira. What advice?"

"You don't remember?" she asked, as if shocked. "Then give me back my ice cream." She reached for the small carton.

He held it away from her. "No. At least give me a hint."

She sighed, stood. Leaned over the table. "Fine. But I still want my ice cream." She paused as his gaze fell inevitably to her breasts, enfolded in the snug green t-shirt. "Commando, Colonel Sheppard," she whispered. Straightened.

John thought a moment. Then a slow, knowing smile spread along his handsome face. His brilliant green eyes sparkled as he gazed upon the tight t-shirt, only noticing now how the material did not reveal any trace of a bra. His gaze lowered to her hips, her crotch in the khaki pants. Wished she would turn around.

Moira felt a hot wave wash over her as he perused her body with pleasure. She sat down on the chair. "Can I have my ice cream?"

"No, Doctor O'Meara. Later. After I have mine."

Moira stood again as his gaze seemed locked on her breasts. On her hardening nipples poking the fabric. "When? John," she scolded, bumped the table at him.

He met her gaze slowly. Smiled. "Now."

"Where?"

"Yours."

"Fine."

"Good."

She laughed as he did. She strolled out of the cafeteria, playfully swung her hips as she knew his gaze was locked on her rear now. Anticipatory thrills inundated her. She walked quickly to her room, entered. She looked at the bed, but whirled as he knocked a few seconds later. She opened the door. He stood, holding up the ice cream carton. "Good. Are you coming?"

"Yes, as are you," he assured with a grin, a wink. He entered the room as she laughed. She shut the door. "Did you bring two spoons, or do I get to enjoy it all alone?"

"Didn't you try that already, Moira?" he teased, moving to set the ice cream on the bedside table. "I said no cheating." He moved to her as the room grew darker except for the city lights glimmering from the window.

She laughed, turned as he ran a hand up her back, under her shirt. With the other he pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair. It swirled free, cascades of brown that fell to the middle of her back. She moved into his arms, kissed him as his hands slid out of her shirt to run up her front. To fondle a breast. To run his thumb over and over the hard nipple until she softly moaned.

"Where is the ice cream?" she suddenly asked.

He laughed as she spotted it on the table. "Is that all you can think of, Moira?"

"No...I...where are the spoons?" she persisted.

"We don't need spoons."

She eyed him, stepped away, sliding his hand out of her shirt, off her breast. "John? Are you...you aren't into anything...um...kinky, are you?"

"Kinky?" he asked, laughed. He pulled her against him, kissing her. Catching her hair in his hands to run his fingers through the silky softness. "Define kinky, baby," he whispered in her ear. He guided her to the bed, pushed her suddenly onto it. Moira scooted up towards the pillows but he grabbed her ankles, stopping her. "Not so fast, Moira. Define kinky."

"No. The last thing you need is an idea," she scolded.

"Unzip."

"No. I'm worried about my ice cream, John."

He laughed at her seriousness. "Believe me, you'll both enjoy it." He moved over her, kissing her, hands wandering against her clothing. Caressing. Grabbing playfully. His mouth busy in its own seductions, lips probing hers, making hers yield to his. Opening to allow his tongue entrance.

Moira rolled them so she was on top. She sat on him, thighs apart. She swept back her hair. "Tell me."

He smiled, silent, content as she teasingly moved up and down. A gyrating arousal that kept brushing him over and over. Making him react. Making him hard. Her fingers played along his waist, sliding under his shirt. Tugging teasingly at his belt. She lifted, unzipped his pants. Lifted, undid his belt. Lifted, undid the button on his pants. "Ah, Moira," he sighed, "this bed is so comfortable."

She laughed. Moved off him. "Fine, flyboy. Go to sleep, then," she teased as he lazily kicked off his shoes. They noisily hit the floor. She scooted to the edge of the bed, removed hers.

"Socks too," he reminded, sat up to pull off his. He stood, caught her ankles again as she scooted up on the bed. He stroked her scarred foot. "Unzip."

She hesitated, more concerned about her ugly foot, but John seemed undisturbed by it. His focus elsewhere. She laid back, touched the button on her pants. Hesitated as she abruptly realized she was completely bare under the clothing. "John?"

"Unless you want to start without me. I wouldn't mind watching that," he suggested with a smirk. A slow smile.

"Shut up!" she scolded, coloring at his words. His gaze. As he pleasantly laughed.

"You'd better hurry or your precious ice cream will melt," he advised seriously.

Moira frowned. She pulled her shirt down, stretching the fabric to cover her as she unbuttoned, unzipped her pants. "I told you...I don't do kinky."

"Actually you've never told me that," he refuted. Slowly, slowly pulled down her pants, getting a glimpse of what he wanted before she pulled down the shirt. Held it over her.

"I am now, John," she stated. Staring at him.

He smiled. Licked his lips. Pulled off his shirt, tossed it aside as her gaze wandered over his strong arms, his lean torso. His silver dog tags glinted in his dark chest hair. He removed his pants, left his blue plaid boxers on. Slowly pushed her legs apart. He moved over her, climbing onto the bed. Ran his mouth up one bare inner thigh.

"John..." Moira breathed tersely. Tensing.

Feeling her tense he opened his boxers, pulled them off as he slid up her body. "Trust me, Moira," he soothed, kissing her. Distracting her with kisses, tongue probing as he slid her shirt up, up, over her breasts. Scooting against her he blocked her view. She pulled him closer, hands running up his bare arms. Fingers tangling in his chest hair. Sliding to run down his back as his mouth possessed hers. Kiss after kiss, each more passionate, more demanding. More intense as she murmured in her throat. Fingers sliding to run through his hair now. With one hand John reached over, grabbed the ice cream and scooted back. Stuck his finger into the cold concoction. Caught a melting glob. He slid off her to trail it onto her breasts.

Moira started, gasped as the abrupt cold, sticky liquid his her bare skin. She stared as John proceeded to lick the trailing liquid, deftly circling, circling until he captured most of the ice cream, then her rosy, hard nipple in his mouth. Moira squirmed , arched up to his possessive mouth. Losing her breath. Moaning in arousal, pleasure. Her body thrumming with desire. "John," she gasped in a long, long breath.

He licked his lips, moved up to kiss hers. "Hmm...you're right, Moira. This is very, very, very good." His fingers dipped again, spread some between her breasts to trickle down her waist. "Oops, sorry," he muttered. Moved his mouth to lick and kiss the mess.

"John...oh my God...John!" she reacted almost violently. The cold, the heat. The wet, the moist all colliding in a sexual rush. Her fingers caught in his hair as he diligently circled her other breast, licked round the nipple. "Oops, missed a spot," he growled, his breath hot on her skin. His erection very hard now, pressing into her thigh. "John...John...no,no..." she stuttered as his teasing kisses led him down between her breasts. Down her waist. Following the trail of ice cream like a road map.

Moira moaned, squirmed. Trying to move him, hands sliding to grasp his shoulders, to helplessly push. But his weight pinned her down. "No...John...please, please," she moaned, half embarrassed, half excited. Intensely aroused. She flushed at the erotic sensations.

He persisted, ignoring her words as her body all but welcomed, begged him to continue. "I love the sweet, sweet center too," he intoned against her skin. His voice a strained, sexual bass as his mouth moved down, down. Her hands uselessly pulled at his shoulders, his arms. Her body shifting wildly, but he ignored it all, teasingly hovering over her cleft. "Oops, one more drop," he said into her skin, diving in like an explorer to reach his goal.

"John! No, no, please, oh please, oh God, oh please, John!" she exclaimed. Practically bucking under him as he delved into her now, searching, tasting, seeking the exact spot to make her come in a rush. Moira cried out, frantically clawing at the blankets under her hands as his tongue, his lips took her in ways she had never experienced. Body tightening, flooding now as she whimpered in helpless pleasure.

"Fuck," he growled, freeing her. Slid straight up her body, plunging in now, thrusting with almost unbearable need. Faster. Faster. Bringing her again, even more intensely now. He grabbed her wrists, pressed her hands against the bed as he loudly groaned. Moving deeper, deeper. Harder until her knees bent, her body rose to give him more access. Until he thrust harder still, quicker, as if unable to quench his lust for that snug, wet opening. The friction of their bodies joining, joining. The bed was rocking wildly, so violently a book fell off the table. Until she nearly screamed his name in a moaning whimper over and over. Until he came in a rush of spasms and straining. A string of expletives escaping his lips as the pleasure shook him, drained him. Finally released all the tension, all the need.

Breathing deeply he fell upon her, exhausted. Sated. Slid out quickly as a last shudder caused him to spurt on the blankets, on her thigh as he almost lazily released her. Moira was breathing fast, fell back against the bed, relaxing her knees, her legs. She felt hot, flushed. Sticky. Even a little sore but the orgasms intensely lingered. Coils of pleasure in her body.

"John..." she whispered. Swallowed. Throat dry. Parched.

John rolled onto his back, depleted. "Moira." He swallowed. His voice harsh. Raw. "Was that too kinky?" he teased. Tone smug. Satisfied.

"Oh my God," she murmured , startled. Amazed. Embarrassed.

"I agree," he said. "I honestly don't think I can move. Or stand. Good thing it's your bed. It's much more comfortable."

Uneasily she pulled her shirt down. Felt dizzy. Reeling from the sex. Hot. "I...I don't know what to say..." she stammered between breaths.

"Thank you would be nice," he quipped, "but I should thank you. No. I should thank the ice cream." He laughed again, a pleasant, knowing sound. He finally rolled onto his side to look at her. "Moira?" He touched her arm, kissed her lips, her throat. "Sweetheart, did I go too far?"

"No..." she said slowly, uncertain. "I...I..never...I..." She closed her legs.

He slipped his arm across her waist, across the t-shirt. "Moira," he said into her ear. Voice low. Sensual. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be pleased."

"No. I mean, I am. I..." Words failed her as she stared at the ceiling. Trying not to look at him but feeling him so close. So warm. "I've never done something like, like that. Something so purely, purely...erotic. Purely, um, sexual..."she tried to explain, voice serious.

John smirked, held in his laughter. Amused and allured all at once. "But you liked it," he countered, wondering how far to go. Finding a delicious thrill at the thought of inculcating her in the various erotic ways of having sex. Of initiating foreplay.

"Yes, oh yes!" she gushed, causing him to relax, to tighten his hold on her. "I just...where do you come up with these things, John?"

He laughed quietly, as she seemed unaware of the unintended innuendo. "From you, Moira. You and that seductive mouth. You seduced me first with that ice cream. The antics with the spoon. Come on, you know exactly what you were doing. What you were suggesting."

"Yes. I mean...suggestion is one thing. Actually, um, doing it, that, is another. I'm not used to that, to...to..."

"You will be," he smugly stated. "We'll take it slower, Moira. All right?" He drew her against him, kissed her gently. Soothing, loving kisses. "Just let me know and how far."

"I...okay, John," she stammered, embarrassed.

"Good. I'm surprised, Moira. With you being a biologist and all."

"Paleozoologist," she corrected, causing him to smile. "John..."

He had closed his eyes, happily tired. "Yes, Moira?"

"Have you...have you done this kind of thing with your lots of women?"

"Some," he corrected. "Some women. And no. Not this exact thing."

"But something like–"

"Does it matter, Moira?" he asked. He opened his eyes to see her grave expression. He moved over her, kissing her. "I'm with you now. That's all that matters, right?"

"Yes. I was just, I was just curious." She touched his face. He kissed her fingers. "John..." She felt a wave of tears, inexplicable.

He kissed her again, rolled so they were facing each other. Held her close. "Go to sleep, Moira. We can talk later." Already he was drifting into sleep. Concerned, but not overly so. Finding her embarrassment, her shyness amusing. Arousing. Intriguing.

Moira sighed, snuggled against him, seeking warmth, reassurance. "I forgot you are an alpha."

He smiled. "Damn right," he muttered.

Moira stared at the darkness, trying to pinpoint the cause of her concern. The experience had been startling, unexpected. Erotic beyond belief. Orgasmic. She could feel her body reacting just thinking about it. She rolled over onto her other side. John spooned against her, arms snug around her waist, body pressing close, warm. His relaxed breathing caressed her throat. His hand sleepily wandered up to gently clasp a breast, sliding under the shirt. He settled against her again, shifting.

John shifted again, trying to get comfortable. Every time he was about to fall asleep she would move. Disrupting his relaxation. Pressing her bare rear against him so had to readjust in case she inadvertently aroused him. Not that he would mind that. He caressed her breast lazily, trying to fall asleep once more. Idly wondered what she was thinking or feeling. So tired he didn't want to address it. Not yet. Not after the amazing sex, the orgasmic release. The most intimate possession.

His breathing slowed, slowed, thoughts drifting, drifting into oblivion. Until she shifted again, practically lifting her rear up into him. As if inviting him to take her that way. He debated, considering the idea. "Moira," he intoned low, moving against her as the inevitable arousal was making him react.

Moira felt his obvious reaction to her motions. "Sorry, sorry, John!"

"Go to sleep," he muttered, sliding his hand from her breast down to her waist. He slid one of his legs partly between hers. Let himself relax, relax. Fall, fall into peaceful, sated post-coital weariness. But she moved again, half turning, half turning back, rear brushing him up and down. He needed only to slide his leg, bend his knee to brush her intimately. His fingers stroked her waist, slid to her hip. Stopped himself before he wandered lower. "Moira, what is it?" he finally asked.

"Sorry, John," she whispered. "I, I can't get comfortable." Normally being entangled with him was enough to ease her into sleep. Not now. She was wide awake. Responding to the feel of him against her. The semi-hardness as she kept rubbing against it. She wanted him to touch her, then did not. Wanted the mutual joining, the shared rise and fall. "John?"

"Hmm, Moira, sleep," he muttered. So close to oblivion and delicious memory.

Moira kept still. Waited. Waited until he had fallen asleep. His hold relaxing. She eased out of his arms, off the bed. Moved to pull on a pair of panties. Pulled off the t-shirt and replaced it with a nightshirt. She sat at the table near the window, chin in her hands, thinking. Thinking. Trying to decide what to do but the memory of that erotic encounter, of their several erotic encounters invaded her mind, her body. Finally she turned in the chair to stare at John.

John had rolled onto his back, limbs flung in every direction. The city lights threw a golden gleam onto his arms. His chest. His waist. The rest was lost in the darkness of the room, but Moira could well imagine what was concealed. Could feel it as her body seemed to ache for it, long for it. Even now. She stood. Walked over to the bed. "John? John?" She nudged his arm. Shoved. Shook.

John muttered, opened his eyes. "Huh?" He sat up, yawned. "Moira?" Her hair was a messy swirl around her. A pale green nightshirt concealed her body but clung to her curves.

"John...are you going to break up with me?" she asked at last, standing near the bed. Staring at him. Expression so serious, so somber.


	3. Chapter 3

Survival of the Fittest3

John blinked. Wondered if he had heard her correctly. "What?" Taken aback he could only stare. He glanced at the clock. "Why do you always want to talk at two am?" He looked back at her. "No."

She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him. It was easier not to look at his sleep-mussed hair, his handsome face. His naked body washed by the golden glow of the lights outside. The erotic memories inundating her body yet again. "I just mean...you...look, it's not like we're in a relationship. Well, we're together and all, but not dating. You know. The, the discretion and all. Which I understand. I do. It's just..."

He inwardly sighed, laid back. Folded his arms under his head, getting comfortable. "And..."

He prompted.

The words spilled out in a soft, serious voice. "I don't know what to make of this, John," she continued, unable to stop herself. "This intense attraction between us. I don't mean our, our relationship. I mean, I mean the, the sex."

His attention perked up at that one word. "What about the sex?" he asked, gaze roving. He wondered if she had pulled on panties. Couldn't tell. "Are you that upset about how I went down on you to–"

"No! It's not that. It's not even the sex. It's...it's...I can't stop, John."

"Can't stop what, Moira?" he asked, voice laced with both annoyance and disappointment.

"I can't stop thinking about you. Specifically in that way. In a sexual way. Just the memories of our, our time together make me react. It's always so intense, John! I've never been with a man who could bring me to climax so often. And it's not even that. One look, if it's the right look, one touch, one kiss, one flirtation and I, I become wet."

He shifted, reacting vividly, biting back his laughter, the glib sarcasm that flew to his lips. Intrigued and so aroused by her absolute seriousness. "And?" he prompted.

"What are you doing to me, John?" she continued, quite solemn. "I am so distracted, and my body keeps thrumming with those vivid memories. And that alone makes me feel things, want things, desire things. At first I thought it was the enzyme, some lingering remnant in your system but I was never exposed to it. Then I thought it was the subsonic pulse, but you were only briefly exposed to that. And the side-effects were quite the opposite of this."

John licked his lips, letting her ramble, enjoying her words. Still trying to tell if she had on panties or not as she shifted on the bed. The nightshirt hugged her hips, her rear, but he couldn't tell in the dark. He realized he could only tell by touch. "And?"

"Then I realized maybe it was you. Just you, John. The things you to do me."

"With you," he admonished, reviewing them in his head. In his body. Suddenly he wanted her. Wanted to see how far he could push, how far he could take her.

"With me," she corrected. "I mean, I know you certainly have had ample experience at this with your lots of women but I–"

"Some," he corrected tersely.

"Some," she corrected, smiled at his irritation for a moment. "But I can't imagine they would have left you if they were even half as, as affected as I am. So you must have left them. Left them to move on to the next woman. That's what I heard, I mean, so they say. You know. You know your own reputation. And that's fine, I understand that, I mean I knew that. I just...I've heard you usually don't spend all of this time on every woman so I–"

"Moira," he complained, sighed. "What the hell have you heard about me?"

"Unless your hormonal drives are excessively high," she continued, ignoring his protest. "So I wonder, John, how can you be doing this to me? Apart from my feelings for you. What I said when I was, I was drunk...when I...I know that my emotions would naturally color any kind of appraisal so I tried to think about this unbiased. Why are you doing this to me, John?"

"Must you scientists overanalyze everything?" he grumbled, as she shifted yet again. "I'm glad you don't analyze our lovemaking, Moira. I couldn't handle the pressure of performing under those conditions," he sincerely commented.

"Damn it, John, I'm serious!"she flared, hearing the amusement in his voice. "Why are you doing this to me?" She turned to stare at him.

He smiled. "I don't know, Moira. I don't care what the fuck you've heard about me. I'm with you now. That's all that matters. Why am I spending so much time with you, having sex with you repeatedly? Probably because I enjoy it, you enjoy it. I'm no biologist, not even a paleozoologist. I'm just a lieutenant colonel who is constantly thinking of you. Your mouth, Moira. The things you can do with that mouth of yours. The things I want you to do with that mouth of yours. Ah." He realized suddenly, seeing her flinch at his bold words, his direct suggestions. A predatory thrill pulsed in him. He imagined how he would convince her to go down on him. Persuade her. Cajole her. Seduce her to take him. "The words you say," he resumed with an effort. "The ball is in your court, baby. Both of them, actually."

"Damn you, John,"she said mildly, irritated at his dismissal, his amusement. His desires. She moved onto him suddenly, straddled him. Leaned down to kiss him. He ran his hands down to her hips. Felt the layer dividing them. Panties after all.

"Please, Moira," he scolded, sounding arrogant. "If you've heard half of what I think you have you knew going in I wasn't a hearts and flowers guy. So don't act surprised and don't you dare pretend you had no idea what I wanted. What you wanted."

She frowned. "Oh, I know, John. I know the kind of guy you are. No hearts. No flowers. Only sex." She straightened.

He smiled. "You never complained before this. What was it? Every single time? You climax every single time?"

"Shut up, John! See? This is what you do to me!" She took his hand, thrust it between her legs. The panties were damp.

"Ah...lovely," he said. His fingers caressed, probed but she shoved his hand off her.

"Every damn time! Every day! What are you doing to me, John?" She began to ride him, back and forth, up and down. Teasing his growing erection with every motion.

He sighed happily, reached for her thighs but she shoved his hands off her again. "Ah, Moira, ride me. Ride me hard, baby. Angry sex with you is going to be fucking hot!"

"Is that what you want? Angry sex? Or would you prefer something kinky?"

"Do whatever you want, Moira," he grinned. Lifting now to move with her. "Why else do you think I make you wet every day?"

"Is this what you want, you bastard?" she snapped. She moved faster, harder. All but stroking his trapped erection now. "You're the only man who can make me come in my clothes! You can give me an orgasm like this!" she declared, sounding angry. "Is this how you want it?"

"Yes, oh yes," he agreed, enjoying her anger. The feel of her increasingly sodden panties. "But lose the fucking nightshirt. And the panties."

She glared at him, but the desire was intense, hot. She kept moving on him. Yanked up her nightshirt and pulled it off her body, flung it to the floor.

John smiled as her loose hair flew, spilling down to her bare breasts, between them. Curling round her rosy, hard nipples. He groaned in excitement as her breasts bobbed up and down to the rhythm of her rocking. Harder. Harder.

Moira squirmed on top of him, caught his hands as they reached to touch. She forced them down onto the bed on either side of him. "No, John!"

"Do we need a safe word, Moira?" he teased, letting her bind him. Watching with increasing tension, arousal. Knowing he would have to take over soon. Take her.

"You think you're so funny! I can come like this, John. I don't even need your fucking ordnance inside of me!"

"Is that so?" John groaned, body tensing as she gyrated, trapping his now throbbing erection under her. Under the sodden, silky panties. He abruptly freed his hands, half sat to kiss her mouth, his hand on her lower back to keep her in place. Fingers sliding roughly into her panties now to pry, probe.

Moira yanked his hand away from her, pushed him back down. "No!"

"Then fuck me, Moira, please," he said. Still sounding smug.

"Please what, John?" she snapped. The need was spiraling. Murmurs escaped her lips.

"Fuck me, Moira. Fuck me now," he intoned in a growl. "Let me enter that sweet, sweet center of yours," he said hoarsely, unable to resist for much longer.

"No. You'll do something kinky," she replied between heavy, heavy breaths. "You fucking bastard," she accused mildly, closing her eyes to concentrate on the vivid sensations. The rush of impending orgasm.

He stared at her, enthralled. Her head thrown back, hair flying all around her. Bare breasts tempting his mouth. Her gyrating hips. The glimpse of her moist panties as she rocked, rocked on him. Her parted lips as she gasped, whimpered with inarticulate desire.

"No. The bastard you're fucking is not letting you go alone," he decided. He couldn't keep still.. The sight of her, the sounds she was making, the feel of her on him, so close and yet impenetrable made him grab her. He caught her hair, pulled her gently down to a searing kiss. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Then trailing rough kisses down her throat, her skin. To catch one breast in his mouth as his hand caught the other. Gently squeezing.

Moira's eyes flew open, back arching, shoving herself into him. He grabbed her hips, shoved her up and off. Flung her onto her back. He caught the wet panties and instead of pulling them down he ripped them apart at the seams.

Moira gasped, squirmed in quick arousal at the sound of torn satin. At the feel of his knuckles scraping against her wet opening, almost making her come right then. He shoved apart her thighs and slid inside her. Slid slowly with incredible restraint.

She gasped, moaned, rising to give him more access. John fought the urge to pound into her, to thrust hard, harder. Instead he slowly entered, pulled out. Entered a little harder. Paused. Groaned in sheer relief, sheer frustration. She was so wet, but tight. Muscles contracting around him, as if making him struggle for every inch. He gladly struggled, easing in slowly, in and out, ignoring the screaming demands of his body.

Moira writhed helplessly under him. Gasping. Grabbing. Moaning as he delayed, delayed. Her sharp intake of breath, her protracted whimper told him he was close to where he needed to be. He moved slowly, however, teasingly bringing her to the brink, but not yet. Not yet.

"John...please...John..." she whispered, thighs opening wider. Lifting to invite his complete amorous energies. She grabbed his arms.

"Please? Please what, Moira?" he retorted. Barely able to hold back he grunted. The friction building, building. Her body luring him deeper, deeper.

"Please, John! Oh John!" She writhed, lifted. Yanking him closer to kiss him. Run her mouth across his jaw to his ear. To circle. To nibble down his throat as he kept the slow momentum.

So close now she wanted to scream at him. "Fuck me, John,"she whispered, begged, implored.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth when John thrust into her. Hard. Moira cried out, lost her breath, arched in total surrender. John thrust rapidly now, completely filling her. Moira forgot to breath, crying out his name in a rising crescendo as the orgasm exploded into ripples of pleasure. Rocking her as it was almost unbearable. She remembered to breath again, moans and whimpers escaping her lips . Her fingers digging into his arms. Clutching tightly as she drowned beneath the waves and waves of sensual energy.

John thrust and thrust, not done. Nearly there now, her ecstatic cries urging him to go faster, harder. Deeper as she clung. His own hungers wild now, not easily sated. Not yet as he groaned, grunted. Taking her fully, possessing all of her. He came in a flood of spasms, body rocked into throbbing intensity. The hunger appeased. Released. Tension spiraling into pleasure now. He couldn't seem to stop moving. Taking her over and over until at last he slowed. "Moira...oh fuck fuck...Moira...you're going to kill me," he exhaled, fell on top of her. "Fuck, fuck," he muttered, crashing at last into replete abandon.

Waves were still echoing in Moira. She could still feel him inside her, taking her . So big, so hard. So long. Sliding along every inch of her. Her fingers relaxed to caress his bare back. His hot body was pressed to hers still. Trickles of sweat colliding with her own. She tried to speak. Couldn't. Swallowed. "John..." she whispered.

"I. Can't. Move." Each word was a challenge. He managed to croak them, but slid half off her, out of her. Feeling a dim shudder as her folds slid all along him. He kissed her shoulder, a breast as he buried his face in her wild hair. "Moira," he said low. "Are you still mad at me?"

His voice shivered across her skin. So low, so husky and intimate. "What? Was I?" she asked. His breath caressed her skin. She felt sticky, hot. Astounded again.

"Yes," he replied. Moved lazily to lay next to her on his side. His gaze traveled over her body.

"I guess not now," she wryly noted.

"Moira, please tell me you were never like this with another man. With any man," he stated gravely. He moved over her suddenly, stared into her eyes.

Moira stared back at his intense expression. "John?"

He smiled, kissed her. Ran kisses along her throat. Nibbled her earlobe to make her tiredly murmur. "Moira," he drew out her name in a possessive moan. "Were you?"

"No. No, John. I told you. I'm only like this with you."

He stroked her side, the scar near her hip. "Are you certain? You could kill a man with pleasure. And all that analysis. Have you?"

She laughed at his absolute seriousness. But humor glinted in his eyes. "No, John. Stop–"

"I'm serious, Moira. Men would die for this. Hell, I nearly did. You did too. I heard you. I can't think of anything else. I imagine all kinds of things with you."

"Kinky things?" she asked, frowning.

"Yeah. Some. Some fantasies I have of you and me involve kinky sex. But not all. Well, what you might consider kinky and what I consider...erotic." He thought a moment. "Mainly I just want to be inside you, or have you beneath me, or on top of me. Whatever. So wet," he smiled, hand sliding down to caress, to stroke as he shifted off her. His eyes were locked with hers as his fingers playfully slid along her cleft.

She shifted, blushed at his bold, intense gaze, his possessive touches. She tried not to move, not to murmur. She grabbed his hand but he kept it there, probing further, parting folds now, searching for the bud to make her stammer, moan. To make her hips rise. Her thighs part. "Oh John, John..."she whimpered.

He kissed her, a long, savoring kiss. "My Moira, so wet, so very wet...can you even imagine what I want to do with you? The ways I can bring you over and over. And over."

"You, John...you can't..." Her voice was strained, hoarse again as he mercilessly aroused her. Starting the cycle of pleasure again. She pushed but he kept his hand between her legs. She frowned, reached along to brush her fingers on his thigh. Found his cock instead becoming hard.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.

He smiled. "No, Moira, not at all. I guess I should have warned you about my ordnance," he teased. Kissed her again. Mouth sliding down to her breasts.

"John? Really? Are you...you're not going to...are you?" Her voice was a breathless, helpless whisper.

He moaned as her fingers caught hold of him, tugging. Gently squeezing. "Moira, would you let me taste you? Touch you? Suck you to the brink?" he teased. "Would you put that delicious mouth on me? Take me into you?"

"John?" She tensed as her hand freed him. His erection springing to a life of its own. He paused, mouth at her waist now. Hand on her inner thigh while he kept stroking. Probing.

"Are you ready for any of that, Moira?" He felt the pure predatory thrill. Had her in his thrall. Knew he could probably make her do anything. Do anything he wanted. Take her in any way he desired. But he let the feeling pass. Didn't want to rush her, or pressure her.

Moira finally managed to shove his hand off her. She scooted up the bed, out of his reach. "John! John, I can't! I can't stand this...this...this intensity!" she complained, on the verge of tears. Of orgasm as her body throbbed again. "Please!"

"I love bringing you, Moira," he said, sliding up to her. Into her now as he moved quickly. Fast and hard. "I can't get enough of it," he muttered, as she writhed, flailed and cried out. Another climax spilling her into waves of pleasure. Of release. John came suddenly. "I can't, Moira, I want you all the damn time," he informed her. Kissed her. Rolled off her and breathed deeply of the warm air. The sexual taint. "That's it. I couldn't get it up again if I tried. Probably not if you tried." He laughed weakly. "Although that mouth of yours might just do it."

"Shut up, John," she said tiredly, exhausted. Amazed and alarmed.

"Every fucking time," he proudly asserted.

"Shut up. You would remember that," she complained.

"Always so wet," he continued happily, baiting her.

"John!" She elbowed him. "Enough about sex!"

"It's not enough, Moira, not for me either. And next time, forgo the damn panties."

"What is it with you and my panties? You ripped the last pair," she complained. Snuggled against him suddenly, seeking his warmth. Any trace of tenderness.

His arm slid round her. "Do you really want to know? It's not the damn panties. It's what's inside of them. It's what happens when you become–"

"Never mind!" She closed her eyes as he softly laughed.

John woke. He opened his eyes blearily. Morning light was just starting to filter into the room, casting the walls in shades of pale yellow. "Shit," he commented, glancing over at the clock. He found himself sprawled under Moira who was sound asleep. He smiled, enjoying the feel of her naked body on his, the warmth and softness of her skin. Her gentle breathing tickling his chest. Her loose hair spilling over them both like a blanket. He kissed her brow. Gently disentangled himself, scooting out from under her. He scrambled off the bed, hastily pulled on his discarded clothing. Looked around for his socks, but couldn't find them. Pulled on his shoes.

He turned back to stare at the bed. At Moira sound asleep on her stomach. He studied the curves of her back, her hips, down to her rear. Her bare rear, round and shapely. John smiled broadly. He sat on the bed. Ran his hand down her back, pushing her hair aside. Gently grasped her rear, squeezed. "Moira's pert little ass," he teased, leaning to whisper in her ear. Felt himself reacting, so tempted to take her like this. Could only imagine the pleasure. Her reactions.

Moira mumbled, shifted on the bed. "John," she whispered. A slight murmur escaped her throat.

He smiled, gently squeezed again. "It's fucking perfect, baby," he said low, kissed her cheek. He freed her, stood before she could wake or react. He stared for a long moment, then quietly left. Sauntered quietly, quickly down the hallways. Unable to stop the swagger in his gait. Unable to hide the grin on his face. He entered his room. Plopped tiredly onto his bed. Laid back. He had just closed his eyes, pleasant images of Moira in his mind when the alarm rang.

Moira stirred, reaching. "John? John!" She suddenly recalled feeling his hand on her rear, some teasing words whispered in her ear. She abruptly rolled onto her back, sat up and stared as full sunlight flooded the room. Grabbed the discarded nightshirt to her, although there was no one there to witness her nakedness. She eyed the messy blankets. Embarrassed. Enamored.

She quickly sprang off the bed to shower, to put on clean clothes. To straighten out the messy bed. She laughed, finding his socks tangled in the mess. Shook her head, debating how to return them.

John sat in the cafeteria. Having devoured his first omelette he was starting on his second. Looked up to see Rodney staring at him. "What?"

"Nothing. You usually don't eat that much, is all."

"Not as much as you, you mean," John smirked. Chewed and swallowed.

"Oh ha ha," Rodney fumed, but lifted a fork full of scrambled eggs to devour.

"Come to think of it, Rodney, no one, not even Ronon eats as much as–"

"Colonel Sheppard," Moira interrupted, standing at the table. Her gaze glancing over his black t-shirt, olive pants. She stared at all the food on his plate a moment. "I believe these are yours."

She dropped the pair of socks into his lap. "I wish you wouldn't mix your dirty laundry with mine," she accused, sounding annoyed.

John almost laughed, but instead scowled. "My apologies, Doctor O'Meara. Won't happen again. At least it won't be the laundry that will be mixing." He met her gaze, all innocence, but a smirk tugged at his lips.

She tried not to smile. "I see."

"Wait. How did you know those socks belonged to him?" Rodney asked.

"Oh. Easy," Moira smoothly responded, meeting Rodney's puzzled gaze. "Who else has feet that big?"

Rodney laughed. John scowled, but smiled. "That's not the only–"

"Keep your clothes to yourself, colonel," she interrupted, turned and headed back to the food.

John watched her grab some food, head out of the cafeteria. Ponytail swinging against her dark green shirt. Hips swaying in the khaki pants. Rear demurely covered but John was remembering how he had seen it that morning. Had seen her on the bed, so ripe for the taking.

"The laundry! Hello!" Rodney waved his hand in front of John's face.

"Huh?" John met his gaze, frowned. "What? I was distracted."

"Yeah, I noticed. That seems to be happening a lot lately," Rodney acerbically commented.

"What? Look, I'm not always distracted but–"

"No! The laundry! The laundry has been mixed up for two weeks now! I've mentioned it to Elizabeth but still nothing has happened to remedy the situation. I suggest you put that in your report if you ever get around to making one. And don't forget to add my own supply list to–"

"Gotta go." John stood. "All of those reports to do."

"Oh, now you want to do those reports? Well, don't forget to mention the laundry!" Rodney called after him as John strode across the cafeteria. He met the bemused expressions of other diners. "What? It's an important issue!"

"Moira!"

Moira jolted from her erotic reverie at the excited female voice. She turned on her stool to see Katie Brown rushing towards her, a big grin on her face. "Katie? Did that plant finally bloom?"

"No! The mission's a go! I just heard! Major Lorne will take a team of botanists and you're coming too! In fact Major Lorne insisted, since you know the planet and what we need."

"He did, did he? I bet," Moira commented. Could just imagine his dread of escorting a full team of scientists to another planet. "Wait. What mission?"

"What mission? To M1K436! Don't pretend you forgot! It's all we've been thinking about! Matthew was finally able to convince Weir of the importance of this botanical mission, given the reports from that planet."

"Oh. Right," Moira smiled. Memories of that mission focusing on John, not on the plants. "Wait. When are we going?"

"In two hours!" Katie consulted her watch. "It's my first off-world mission, Moira! What do I take? Apart from the specimen jars, and tweezers, and gloves, and bags, and maybe a mini microscope to examine any species on site! Oh! What do I wear?" The women laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

Survival of the Fittest4

Laughter emitted from the biology lab. John paused in the hallway, scowled. He had hoped to find Moira alone. The presence of others thwarted his plans. He watched as Katie emerged. "All right, all right, I won't take the entire lab!" she called jovially. Smiled as she passed him. "Colonel Sheppard."

"Doctor Brown," he replied amiably. He entered the lab. Smiled. Closed, then locked the door. Moira was alone. Squatting near a table, searching for something in a lower cabinet. She leaned, lifting her rear to search in the dark recesses. The khaki pants hugged her rear tightly, deliciously as John neared quietly. He waited until she was backing out of the cabinet, something in her hand. He grabbed her rear, squeezed.

Moira yelped. She dropped the flask as she straightened. Glass shattered on the floor. "Damn it, John! That is John, isn't it?" she teased, voice breathless as his hands kept kneading, squeezing.

"Hilarious, Moira. That pert little ass was just asking, no, begging for my–

She whirled, slid her hands up his chest, kissed him. "Hilarious, John! Damn it! What the–"

He frowned, pretending anger. "That wasn't very discreet, O'Meara. The socks," he reminded.

"As discreet as closing the lab door, colonel?" she countered.

"That's different. That's military prerogative."

"Oh? Is that what you call this? Your hands on my ass are a military prerogative?"

He grinned. "Absolutely, baby. Mine."

"You–"

"Later," he interjected, mouth claiming hers. "I locked the door," he murmured into her ear as he freed her rear to slide his hands up under her t-shirt. Under the bra to fondle, squeeze. Found her nipples already reacting to him.

Moira lost her breath as a hot wave cascaded down her lower body. A tremble of desire hit her frame. "Oh John," she gasped, kissing him eagerly, rubbing her body against his. She smiled, stepped back and met his lascivious gaze. "You–"

"It's that pert little ass, baby. I just have to have it," he explained. Hands sliding down to her pants. To unbutton. To unzip. "Full throttle," he informed huskily, already half erect and pressing against her clothes, her thigh.

She scowled, momentarily put off by his words if not his actions. "Don't call me baby."

He laughed, slid his hands along her hips. Into her pants and panties. Simultaneously yanking them both down. She gasped as the arousal came fast. Hot. Wet. She lifted one leg, bent a knee so he could slide the garments off one of her legs. His eyes were locked with hers. She was breathing quickly, heart racing.

He touched her thighs, but his hands veered round to grab her now naked rear. He lifted her onto the table, shoved papers, data screens aside rapidly. "Moira," he said intently, "I've always wanted you like this."

She obligingly slid her hands down to undo his belt, his pants, his boxers as his straining erection fought to be free, to be inside her. She opened her legs so he could move closer. "Really, John?" she asked breathlessly.

He freed her rear to grab her wrists. To kiss her. He pushed her onto her back. "Yes, Moira. It's one of my sexual fantasies. Except in it you have nothing on but a lab coat. Hope this is not too kinky for you," he teased against her skin. He freed her hands to caress her breasts under the shirt as he thrust his body along hers. One hand wandered down to see if she was ready.

Moira nearly cried out as his fingers tauntingly brushed against her. She grabbed his shoulders to pull herself upright. To kiss him. "Really, John?" she repeated. "It's one of mine too...except in it you have nothing on but those two holster thigh straps." He laughed. She smiled. "Well? Are you going to take me, John, or just–"

He groaned, as her words released any momentary constraint. He plunged into her, groaned with relief. Grabbed her wrists and held her down but his grip was gentle. She squirmed, moaned as the inevitable spiraling began. The friction growing, growing. The pleasure coming, coming.

"John, John, don't go full throttle just yet! Wait. Wait! Slow," she directed, body lifting, writhing to join his. The table was hard, unyielding under her. Cold to her skin.

"Damn. I don't think I can wait," he complained hoarsely. Thrusting, thrusting, tension coiled tightly in his body. Demanding release. "Oh Moira, Moira, tighter. Tighter!" he urged.

Moira clenched on him, making him groan. She squirmed, whimpering as he moved faster, faster. She was about to cry out, the orgasm hovering just on the horizon when there was a loud knocking on the door. She froze. Gasped as John stopped, suspended halfway between arrival and departure. Cursing he rested on top of her, breathing heavily.

"Son of a...." he muttered angrily.

Moira tried to move but this only produced another promise of release, of pleasure. "What?" she managed to call. She hoisted herself further onto the table, to half lift. To grab John's shoulder and glance awkwardly at the door.

"Doctor O'Meara? The door is stuck!" Matthew Parrish called from the other side.

"Shit," she complained. "John, you–"

"So am I," he muttered. "Fuck." He took a few deep breaths, pulled out of her. Causing more murmurs and squirming. Delicious sounds that did little to dampen his enthusiasm. Cursing angrily he straightened, leaned against the table as he sorted his clothing. Restrained his lusting body.

Moira jumped off the table, yanked on her panties and pants. Zipped. Buttoned. Smoothed down her shirt and reached under it to fix her wayward bra. She ran to the door. "Hang on, Matthew! I'm coming!"

"You were," John grumpily asserted.

Moira ignored his comment. "I think the door is stuck!" She whirled to see John nearly assembled. She smirked, turned and unlocked the door. "Try it now."

The door whooshed open. Matthew stared at her disordered hair, flushed face. "There. Thank you, Moira. What happened?"

"I...I dropped a flask." Her breathless voice calmed finally.

"It was my fault." She whirled to see John sweeping the broken glass into a dust bin. "I was debriefing Moira rather intently and I seem to have startled her," he explained in complete sincerity. He stood, strode towards them.

Moira stared lustfully as his disordered hair, frustrated expression. The awkward way he was moving. She smirked, trying not to laugh at his discomfort. He met her gaze, eyes narrowing in a warning. "Yes, it was very intense," she agreed.

"I need to finish debriefing you. Yours. Now." Without another word or even waiting for her reply he strode out of the room.

"Yes, colonel, just give me a moment," she called after him. Amused. She turned to Matthew. "Do you have everything you need, Matthew? Katie told me you convinced Weir to give the go-ahead to this mission."

"Yes," Matthew smiled, proud of himself. "She took some convincing, but in the end science won out again. I am go glad she is the leader of Atlantis and not some military bigwig. Aren't you? Was your debrief about our mission?"

"No. The colonel had another mission in mind," she stated, forcing herself to keep a straight face. "I really should go and see what else he wants."

"Moira!" Katie returned. "Do you have the data files on the moss? I can't find them."

"I've got a copy in my..." Moira started to answer before catching herself. Cursed inwardly.

"Good! Let's grab yours and I can make a copy."

"Okay." Moira acquiesced worriedly. Led the other woman to her room. "Make sure you have plenty of specimen bags and vials," she instructed as they reached her door. She waved it open.

"And we should probably test the water in case the absorption rates have oh my I knew this was a bad idea," she stammered.

John had been waiting in her room. Finally had sat on her bed, laid back. Briefly amused but now just irritated. Frustrated. Tense as his body all but demanded release. He had undone his pants, his boxers, had quietly laughed at the anger Moira would display if he came all over her bed. As the door opened he looked over expectantly, a glib retort on his lips.

Moira's last word seemed to hang in the air as she took in the sight of a very disheveled, very aroused man on her bed. She backed up out of the room, nearly crashing into Katie and closed the door. She turned. "I just remembered! I gave it to Carson, and he should have a copy. Try the infirmary. I'll double check here just in case."

"Okay." Seeing nothing amiss Katie smiled, left her.

Moira's heart was racing. Her body nearly thrumming with desire, with need. She opened the door, entered. Locked it. Burst into laughter.

John smiled, but there was an edge to his voice. "Hilarious, Moira. What the hell took you so long?" He hadn't moved, lay there waiting.

She grinned, nearing. "Were you going to start without me, flyboy? No cheating." She laughed again.

"Moira," he complained, "I'm about to burst here! Come on!"

She laughed at his distress. Undid her pants. "It's your own fault, John. In the lab? What were you thinking?"

"Sex, obviously. The same as you, apparently. Damn it, Moira, get your pert little ass over here now or I will come all over your bed!"

She pounced on him, kissing him deeply, pulling off her pants and panties to tangle around one leg. The other bare, sliding up along his. He roughly rolled them so she was beneath him. "Whoa, whoa, flyboy," she cautioned, pushing him off her. She grabbed his hand, guided it under her shirt. Under her bra. "Easy, easy. You can't go full throttle yet, sweetie, until I 've left the launch pad."

He laughed against her skin, her throat. She guided his hand down, down to caress. To tease. He lifted his head as she freed his hand, caressed his face, jaw. Kissed him tenderly. He quirked a brow. "Sweetie?" he asked.

She laughed at his expression. Murmured as he stroked, stroked between her legs. He yanked up her shirt to pull down the bra with his teeth. To capture a hard nipple in his mouth. "John, oh John, yes, yes," she urged breathlessly. Senses reeling.

"Ready for lift-off now, baby?" he teased, pushing her thighs apart. "Full throttle."

"I told you to stop calling me oh John!" she exclaimed in a rush, arching.

John groaned happily as he entered her, a sudden thrust. "Hold on tight, Moira. Really, really tight," he teased.

Moira lost herself, rocking with him. His movements guiding them both. Going faster. Slowing then quickening. In and out. In and out. Finding the exact spot, the exact motion to make her squirm, grab, cry out repeatedly as she came in a flooding burst of climax. John moaned, thrusting faster, harder. Flinging her thighs wide as he sought his own resolution. Her legs closed around him as he practically lifted her off the mattress. Rocking, rocking the bed. The headboard banged against the wall over and over, creating a noisy cadence to each thrust. Books fell in a domino effect, one after the other as the table shook. Moira's nails clawed his bare back under his shirt, fingers seeking the feel of flesh, of muscles contracting, tensing. Arching in release, in raw sexual pleasure.

Moira moaned loudly, gasping his name repeatedly as she came again. After a brief pause he started all over again, a profusion of swear words escaping his lips. A prolonged groan announced his long-suffering release. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. She tried to catch her own rapid breath, relaxed her legs, her arms, her hands. Slid her fingers over his skin.

"Damn, John! Damn..." she marveled. Body a melted swirl of sensual pleasure.

John laughed against her skin. "My Moira. We do need a safe word," he teased. "Or at least an empty table." He laughed again. "I think we broke the headboard."

She smiled, laughed, stroked his back. "Damn, John..." she repeated, shifting under him. "I hope I didn't scratch you. I'll have to remember to cut my nails."

He laughed, lifted his head to kiss her. "My Moira has claws, does she? But such a lush, very lush, sweet pu–"

"Don't you dare!" she warned tersely. She freed his back, touched his chest. Fingers gliding under his shirt to tangle in his chest hair. To catch the dog tags. The metal cold to the touch. She slid her hands out to touch his face. His hair. "John."

He kissed her again. A gentle motion of his lips on hers, a hint of passion. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No." She smiled. "What brought that on? I mean...after last night you should be...I mean...damn, John."

"Damn, Moira," he mimicked, grinned. "You should come with a warning label."

She laughed. "Me? You! You should...move!" She had glanced at the clock and suddenly remembered the mission.

John laughed, released her and rolled onto his back. "Ah...I can't wait to get you completely unclothed, Moira. Like this morning. That pert little ass in all its glory."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait, flyboy." She sat up, moved to the edge of the bed. Hastily pulled on panties, pants.

John grabbed her arm. "What? Where do you think you are going, Moira? More importantly how can you walk after that? I can't."

She smiled, turned to him. Kissed him. Moved over him. "Ah, John...do you need to re-set your clutch?" He laughed. She sat up. "I've got to go. Lousy timing."

"Go? No. You don't, sweetheart. Stay right here."

She turned as he sat. She kissed him again, pushed him onto his back. "I have a mission." A kiss. "I have to go now." Another kiss. "I'll be back later." She stood, gathered her pack, crossed to the door. Turned. "Oh, John, try to keep it in your pants until I get back."

He laughed, sat up. "Moira, where–" But she was gone. He sighed, settling happily. Hungers sated. Suddenly scrambled off the bed, fixing his clothes.

****************************************************************************

Evan glanced over his shoulder as Moira ran into the Jumper bay, pack flying on her shoulder as she fixed her messy ponytail. "About time. Where the hell have you been?"

"Sorry, Evan!" She bit back her laughter, her embarrassment. She hastened into the Jumper, smiled apologetically at the waiting botanists. She took the empty co-pilot's seat.

Evan shook his head. Closed the hatch and moved to the pilot's seat. "All right. 'Gate room, we finally," he drew out the word, mock glaring at Moira who shrugged, "have a go. Dial the 'Gate." He powered up the ship, rose it smoothly off the floor.

"Moira, are you all right?" Katie asked, as Moira drank deeply from a bottle of water purloined from her pack.

"Yes, Katie, I'm fine. Absolutely fine. Wonderfully fine," she gushed, unable to stop herself. Body warm, vibrant with the afterglow. John's scent all over her. She could feel his body on hers, in hers. The rushing sensations.

Evan shook his head. "I don't want to know. Here we go. Atlantis, we'll check in at," he glanced at his watch, "thirteen hundred. Lorne out."

*************************************************************************

John reached the control room as the 'Gate disengaged. He glanced at the monitors. "Where did they go?"

"Jumper two has a mission to M1K436, sir. An expedition of botanists," a marine answered.

"M1K...the waterfall planet?" he asked. "Why?"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Rodney shouted, striding to John. The scientist gesticulated wildly. "How could you approve this?"

"Approve what? This mission? It's the first I 've heard of it," John replied.

"You can't send her on a mission!"

John stared. Thoughts still on Moira. The feel of her beneath him. The passionate sex they had both enjoyed. "I didn't. I didn't even know about this–"

"You can't send her out there, John!" Rodney declared.

"Look, I don't like it either, but she's more than capable of handling herself on a mission. And Lorne will–"

"What? She's never been on a mission! She's never been off-world before!"

"What?" John paused. "Wait. Who?"

"Katie! Who did you think I meant?" Rodney rolled his eyes, shook his head. "Lorne's taken a team of botanists to M1K436! AT least he's got two marines with him, and Moira, but still I don't think Katie is ready for a mission like that!"

"Rodney," John said, relaxing, "she'll be fine. She's a professional, right? And it's about time she got some off-world experience. Right? As you said, she's got plenty of company. And Moira." His voice lowered at her name. Pleasure echoed. Regret at her sudden departure.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Rodney snapped. "When are they due to report?"

"In two hours," Elizabeth answered, joining them. "Calm down, Rodney. It's a specimen gathering mission. That's all. Major Lorne is more than capable of protecting the scientists. Isn't that right, John?"

"What?" John's thoughts had drifted to the planet. To the passionate encounters with Moira. The violent encounters with Ford. "Yes. Still...I didn't authorize this mission."

"No, you didn't," Elizabeth agreed. "I did. Not every mission needs your authorization, John. This is a simple scientific expedition. Major Lorne has a two hour window."

"It does need my authorization considering the fact that last time we encountered Ford on that planet. Although not hostile territory it is still classed as being unsecured."

"Which Major Lorne knows only too well, John. Doctor Parrish presented a very compelling argument to go back to–"

"Doctor Parrish or Doctor O'Meara?" John interrupted, annoyed. Suspecting the latter scientist more than the former.

"I can tell the difference," Elizabeth quipped. "Doctor Parrish presented a compelling argument to go back to that planet," she resumed her narrative, "for the abundance of the flora which may be the first evidence we have of any indigenous life forms in this galaxy. Not to mention the moss and all of its–"

"I know about the moss, believe me," John said seriously, shutting off the more erotic effects of the enzyme as memory surfaced.

"And you just let them go?" Rodney interjected. He glanced at John. "A team of scientists, many new to off-world exploration!"

"Under the command of a highly experienced major, yes," Elizabeth said, facing more objections. "And frankly it's about time those scientists did have some real field experience. If you are worried about Katie rest assured she is in capable hands."

"What? I never said...I never specified..." Rodney spluttered. Looked at John. "Did you say something?"

"Me? No." John enjoyed a moment of satisfaction. "Still, because of the last mission any mission to this particular planet falls under my purview, as a strong military presence is required."

"Fair enough," Elizabeth conceded. "But I still would have authorized it anyway. Ford is gone, John. You said so yourself. You saw him go down under those...creatures on that ice planet."

"Yes..." John left the rest unsaid, seeing Rodney's genuine worry. "They better check in on time. In two hours. On the dot. Then I'll recall them back to Atlantis." He noticed Rodney breathing easier.

"Unless something significant has been discovered," Elizabeth countered. Shook her head as both men frowned. "I'm sorry, John, but this is a scientific expedition first and foremost. And Rodney, all of our people have been trained just for this. That's why they're here."


	5. Chapter 5

Survival of the Fittest5

Moira stood admiring the emerald pool. It gleamed like a liquid gem in the sunlight. Rays filtered down into its green depths, revealing fish, plants. The three botanists were exclaiming, gathering samples, voices rising in excited tones. Latin names were flung into the air.

Evan joined her, sighed. "Like kids in a candy store," he jested. They laughed. "I swear, Moira, how can they be so excited over a bunch of plants?"

She smiled. "You've got me, Evan. I don't get it either. Except for the science of discovery."

"Are you all right? Your last visit here wasn't exactly pleasant."

She shrugged. "I'm fine. It wasn't exactly pleasant," she agreed, but had to turn away as the passionate encounters with John surfaced in her mind. The almost sex to free him of the enzyme. Nothing like what they enjoyed now. She stared at the tree-line. "I don't see any of those creatures yet. Maybe they will stay in their caves."

"Let's hope so. For once I'd like a nice, peaceful, boring mission." He checked his watch. "Almost time to report. Come with me." He clicked his radio. "Josephes, Larson, keep watch!"

Evan led her to the parked Jumper. He entered the ship, dialed the 'Gate and tapped the comm unit. Waited. "Atlantis, this is Jumper two. Are you receiving?"

"Receiving signal, sir. Major Lorne's IDC."

John nodded. "Good. Open the Iris." He waited, eyes on the console. The light turned green. "Major Lorne, this is Atlantis. Status?" He waved Rodney back as the scientist all but ran into the room, slowed to a more dignified walk.

Evan glanced at Moira. "Fine, sir. For babysitting duty. Brown, Parrish and Lewis are ecstatically collecting flowers."

"Plants," Moira corrected, smiling at his put-upon tone.

"Plants," Evan continued, "with Josephes and Larson on point. So far nothing out of the ordinary."

"Really, major? Can you explain to me what Doctor O'Meara is doing on that planet?"

"Nothing right now, sir."

"Evan!" Moira elbowed him.

Evan smirked. "What I meant to say, sir, was that she is assisting–"

"What I meant to say, major, is that I fail to see the need for a biologist on this mission," John interjected, knowing she would object.

"Paleozoologist," she corrected."Colonel Sheppard, I have in fact discovered a few animals, well amphibians, actually. And lots of bugs...even your favorite. Iratus bugs. I was going to bring home a few specimens to–"

"No, you will not," John countered, trying not to smile. "Major, that is a direct order. No bugs. What is Doctor O'Meara's status, besides standing around doing nothing but–"

"Colonel Sheppard, I trust you are able to keep it in?" she retorted, smiling. Could imagine the amusement in his brilliant green eyes.

"As a matter of fact, yes, Doctor O'Meara. So far. Now get that pert to work!" he ordered. Smiled hearing her laugh.

"Yes, sir! On my way. Moving my pert."

John saw Rodney's bewildered expression, ignored it. "Major, don't let those scientists denude the entire planet. Elizabeth wants you to stay. Report back in two. No, belay that. Make it one. If you run into anything you evacuate. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Evan agreed. "Lorne out." He switched off the comm. Sighed. "Do I really want to know what all that was about?"

Moira laughed, followed him out of the Jumper. "No. You don't. Come on. Let's see if they have found anything of note."

John turned, schooling his expression. Met Rodney's gaze. "See? They are–"

"What the hell was that?"

John shrugged. "Private joke. You see, everything is fine," he repeated. "No need to worry."

"Well...I guess," Rodney conceded. "You, you don't think those creatures will attack them, do you? Or Ford show up again?"

"No. Rodney, they are fine. Quit worrying." All the same John glanced at his watch. The same thoughts occurring to him.

************************************************************************8

The Jumper was loaded with packs full of specimens. Bags overflowing with vegetation lined one wall. Greenery sprouted along the seats. The men were loading the last of the bags as Moira and Katie strolled along the tree-line.

"It's so beautiful here!" Katie gushed. "Almost a paradise!"

"Almost," Moira agreed. Paused. Stared at the tall, leafy trees. A slight breeze stirred the foliage. Heavy vines climbed the trunks. Tiny pink flowers bloomed.

Katie had kept moving, knelt in some ferns. "Look! Gentium!" She stroked the blue flower. Stared. "Uh...Moira. I thought you said there was very little mammalian life here."

"I did. Why?"

"Come look at this." Katie's gaze moved away from the sight.

Moira stepped to her friend. Knelt. A small deer-like creature was prone on its side. Brown fur stained by dried blood. Tiny antlers protruded from its delicate head. "Poor thing."

"What is it?"

"A deer. More likely a muntjac...but not a primitive form." She saw the streaks of red. The wound that had killed it. Froze. She looked around. The trees were silent. No creatures. "Katie," she said calmly, "would go get Major Lorne? Head him over here but stay near the Jumper. It's almost time to go."

"Okay. I can help Matthew." Katie headed out of the trees, round the pool.

Moira found a stick. Gently pried at the wound, making a face as congealed blood pooled sluggishly. She looked round at the heavy foliage. Felt nervous, more so now recalling Ford's men. Their odd deformities. A step made her stand, turn quickly.

"Moira? What is it?" Evan saw her expression. Tightened his hold on his P90.

"Evan. Look."

He moved to stand next to her. "Deer?"

"Muntjac. So there is some mammalian life here, but that's not the point. Look at how it was killed. Is that what I think it is?"

Evan leaned closer. Frowned. "A bullet," he identified, seeing the metal object. A copper gleam in the rent flesh. He looked round the trees. "Time to go."

"It's not one of ours. I mean it's–"

"No, it's not a P90 bullet, you're right. In fact it's oddly old-fashioned, from what I could see.

Let's go." He led her out of the trees, round the pool. "Josephes!" he called. "Get Parrish! Time to move out! Larson, form up! Brown, Lewis, get in the Jumper!"

"Major, I've discovered a very rare form of–" Matthew began to object.

"I don't care! Get in the Jumper now!"

Gunfire erupted. Everyone duck, dove for cover. Evan shoved Moira down, knelt beside her. "Larson, start the engines! Where the hell are..." His words trailed off abruptly.

A horde emerged from the trees. Strange, misshapen men. Waving rifles they fired into the air. Strange grunting noises filled the air. They shot haphazardly at the Jumper. A bullet his Larson, propelled him into Katie, into the Jumper. Lewis fell, a bullet slicing across his throat with startling accuracy, or accident. He fell, blood spurting in a crimson fountain.

"They're human, but deformed early–" Moira was trying to see but Evan pulled her down.

"Not now! Clear the way, Josephes!"

As the lieutenant fired Evan pulled Moira to her feet. They ran round the pool, dodging, ducking. More gunfire. Bullets pinged sporadically around them. Katie ran to the Jumper's ramp, waving her arms.

"Major! Major Lorne! Larson's been hit bad! He...oh my God!" Her gaze landed on Lewis as his body sprawled in the grass.

"Close the door, Katie!" Moria shouted, saw they wouldn't make it in time. "Call Atlantis!" Moira dove into the ferns. Evan after her as bullets ripped up the ground in front of them, cutting off their access to the ship.

Wild grunts. Howls. Gunfire. A yell. Silence.

Evan raised his head. He was next to Moira in the tall, waving ferns. Cautiously he peered round. Froze.

Moira moved to her knees. "Evan? What..." Her words faded. The strange humans surrounded them. Moira stared at their heavy brows, misshapen forms. Bumps and ridges but their build was different. Their skulls sloped differently. Receding jaw lines. Prominent brow ridges. Stocky, muscular bodies. Scars. "Early humans..." she whispered.

Evan cursed, raised his empty hands slowly. "Do you think they understand surrender?"

Moira raised hers. "I hope so."

They were pulled to their feet. Roughly dragged out of the ferns towards the pool. Dumped next to Matthew and Aaron. The lieutenant was bleeding from a leg injury, staining the grass crimson. The attackers hooted and hollered. Surrounded them, shaking their rifles. Ignored the Jumper.

"Uh...now what?" Matthew asked. "We can't communicate–" he broke off as one shoved him to the ground.

"Don't talk," Moira urged.

The group parted, revealing a towering figure. Not as misshapen as the rest. Heavy brows. Long tangled hair. Rough-hewn clothes adorned with leaves. Vines. He circled them. Circled. Leaned close, small eyes narrowing in concentration.

"What's he doing?" Evan asked quietly.

"Don't move," Moira advised. "He's...he's smelling us," she realized.

"Huh?" Evan retorted, bewildered.

The leader sniffed Matthew. Poked his shoulder. Said something in a guttural slur. He moved to Aaron. Sniffed. Poked his injured leg. Aaron grimaced, remained silent. The man grunted something. Producing guttural laughter from the others. He circled. Sniffed Evan. Sniffed again. Evan grimaced at the man's fetid breath. The leader scratched his head. Moved to Moira.

Moira stiffened, cursing in her mind. Suddenly very aware of how she might smell to heightened senses. Wondered if the man would smell John all over her. Would smell the wild, exuberant sex they had enjoyed. She had not had time to change, not even time to clean up before the mission. She blushed.

The man leaned closer, nostrils flaring. Sniffed deeply. Face running down her chest. Moira shifted, highly uncomfortable.

Evan shoved the leader. "Okay, buddy, back off!" He was slammed to the ground.

"No! Nobody move!" she warned, before Aaron could react.

The leader straightened, grinned. Pointed. Issued a string of commands.

"What's going on?" Evan asked, scooting closer to Moira.

"I have no idea. I'm no anthropologist but I don't think they want to kill us."

"Yet?" Aaron asked. "What the hell was all that sniffing?"

"Their olfactory senses are much more heightened than ours," Moira opined.

"Are they on the enzyme?" Matthew asked.

"God I hope not!" A shiver swept through Moira at the thought. They were surrounded again. Rifles were shaken. Noises filled the air. Gestures. "Looks like we're moving," she noted,

as they were being herded along the grass.

"Great. Now what?" Evan asked. Glanced at the undisturbed Jumper.

**************************************************************************

John twirled the sticks. Began to swing them. Meeting Ronon's hit for hit in a ever-widening circle of combat. The two men drew closer, closer. Went back and forth across the room. Increasing their pace. Faster. Harder.

Ronon grinned. "Not bad, Sheppard. Something bothering you? You look tired but you seem to have a lot of energy. Pleased, but tense."

John didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, something like that." He twirled the sticks, pressed Ronon backwards, backwards across the room.

"I see. Moira off-world then?" Ronon teased, grinning widely. Suddenly he was battered into the wall. "Whoa, it was a joke!" he proclaimed, as the two sticks crossed at his throat.

John smiled, stepped back, lowering the two sticks. "Sorry. Guess I am a little...tense."

Ronon laughed. "Just a little?" He quickly blocked a sudden stick headed for his face.

John's watch beeped. He dropped the sticks to the floor. "Gotta go. Check in." He jogged out of the exercise room.

**************************************************************************

The four were roughly searched. Stripped of guns, TAC vest, earpieces, packs. Prodded to follow the leader as they walked around the emerald pool. Surrounded by the grunting men.

"Where do you think they're taking us, sir?" Aaron asked, stumbling along. Blood still seeped down his leg.

"No idea. Just keep calm. Help will be here soon," Evan assured. Glancing round at the odd men who were herding them.

"I thought you said there was no life here," Matthew commented, helping Aaron hobble.

"There wasn't. Last time," Moira noted. She followed Evan closely.

They entered the tree-line. The going was slower. Thick foliage blocked them. Vines tangled around their feet. Long plants snagged their arms. Their captors moved with ease, despite their bulkier builds. Aaron faltered, fell.

Moira and Evan turned as Matthew knelt by the injured lieutenant. "Wait!" the botanist called. "He's bleeding badly!" The leader began talking wildy, waving his arms. Matthew was grabbed, hauled to his feet. "No! Hey, wait! We can carry him! Stop!" He was shoved aside.

Guns were raised. "No! No, you can't! Wait!" Moira rushed to Aaron but was hauled away from him by the leader. "Stop!" Bullets flew wildly, not directed at anyone or anything. "No!"

"Josephes! Play dead!" shouted Evan, ducking, hoping his lieutenant was still alive. He tried to keep sight of Moira as the throng enveloped them.

"No! No!" Moira argued, struggling but the leader's grip bit into her arm, dragging her.

Evan and Matthew were prodded to move along. Evan quickened his pace to catch up to Moira. "Don't fight, Moira. It's his best chance."

The men fought their way through the trees. The land began to descend. Sloping downwards sharply. The sounds of the waterfalls were nearly deafening. Crashing liquid all around them. The air felt moist, but warm. Moira struggled to keep her footing, slipping on the spongy ground. Trying to move slower but was hauled by the leader.

"Oh my God...the moss! It's everywhere! It wasn't like this before!" Moira exclaimed in horror. A great swath of it cut across the abruptly open meadow. A profusion of tiny blue flowers seemed to spread for miles.

"Shit. It's a cliff," Evan warned, trying to stop but was grabbed by two men as was Matthew. They were dragged to the edge. Walked right over as was Moira. Into the air. Free falling down, down.

**************************************************************************

"Colonel Sheppard! It's Larson's IDC, sir!"

"Open the Iris," John ordered, wondering at the identity of the caller. Why it wasn't Lorne.

Rodney joined him. "What is it? You have that look? Something's wrong, isn't it?"

John ignored him. "Sargent Larson, status." Silence. "Larson? Report!" He exchanged a puzzled look with Rodney. "Larson, do you copy?"

Silence. The two men waited. "Colonel Sheppard?" came a quavering female voice.

Rodney lurched to the comm, nearly shoving John out of the way. "Katie! Katie!"

"Rodney! Thank God! Rodney, we need help!" Katie cried, leaning over the comm in the Jumper. She held onto the control panels tightly.

John pushed Rodney aside. "Katie, what's happened?" he calmly asked.

"We were attacked by, by some men...weird, deformed men with guns! Larson's here with me in the Jumper but he is injured! Lewis...Lewis is dead!"

"Where is Lorne? And Moira?" John asked, his heart hammering. Muscles tensing.

"I don't know. She said to close the Jumper and call you! They took them, all of them! Colonel, they didn't speak English! They didn't speak at all!"

"Don't worry, Katie, we're coming! Don't move!" Rodney shouted. He whirled, ran into the 'Gate room.

"Katie, how many were there?" John asked, seeking intel.

"Sheppard!" Rodney shouted, gesticulating wildly.

John held up his hand as Katie answered, "I don't know. Dozens! Several dozens!"

"All right. Don't move. We're coming to you. Sheppard out." He tapped his earpiece. "Reynolds, Ronon to the Jumper bay. Bring ordnance. We're on a rescue recon. Now."

**************************************************************************

Moira woke slowly. Remembered the fall. Hitting the water, plunging into a sea of green, heavy growth underwater. Drowning, but hauled to the surface by groping hands. She vaguely remembered the plants. Moss everywhere. Tiny blue flowers proliferating.

Something was between her legs. Sniffing. Sniffing like a dog. She scrambled awake to find the leader between her thighs, head thrusting into her crotch. The wet clothes clung to her. She cried out, kicking him in the head. Scooting away to slam her legs together, thankful she was still fully clothed even though drenched. The leader sat back, laughed. Laughed loudly as did the audience of men around her.

Moira flushed. Embarrassed. Shocked. More embarrassed because for a moment she had thought it was John, her unconscious mind tangling erotic memories. She scooted until she hit a stone wall covered in the moss. Aware of all of those males staring at her. The leader was speaking in a guttural tone. Gesturing, making the others laugh again.

She swallowed nervously, looking round. She was in a cave. Underground, not one of the high cliffs. A pool glinted nearby. Moss covered everything, a carpet of green spongy growth. She couldn't see Evan or Matthew. "Evan! Matthew! Evan!" she shouted, the rising hysteria in her voice evident.

"Don't be afraid. They won't hurt you." The man's voice was calm. Deep. He stepped out of the throng. Dressed in tattered clothes like the rest but appearing normal. Human. A bald head. Muscled, bare torso. "He won't hurt you. He can smell you. Smell the sex on you. He knows you belong to some man. Some man who fucked you very, very recently. But it's not one of the ones with you, so he is puzzled. Intrigued."

Moira stared, more startled by the perfectly understandable English than by the man's words. She flushed. Scooted closer to the wall, folding her legs under her. "Who...who are you?" she stammered, longing for rescue. Longing for John so intense it made her eyes sting with unshed tears.

"You are safe here. Even if I wanted to harm you he wouldn't allow it. See?" He made to approach in a threatening manner but the leader snarled. Blocked him. The man lowered his hand, stepped away. The leader relaxed.

"What do you want?"she asked, only slightly reassured. "Where are my friends?"

"They are recruits. Helping us now. Cooperating to ensure your safety. Once the city is done you all can go."

"City? What city? Wait, wait!" she cried, watching him turn to go. He spoke some strange words, then looked back at her. Set a plate on the ground. "Eat. Fruit. It's not harmful."

She stared at the assortment. Wary. Hungry. Thirsty. "No."

"You will. They won't let you starve." He left.

The leader pushed the plate to her. Mimicked eating. Picked up a piece of what looked like an apple. Ate it. Shoved the plate closer to her. She snatched a strawberry. He grinned, nodded. She stared at the fruit, thoughts of John dominating. Worried about the others.

***********************************************************************

Evan wiped his brow, stared at the moss clinging to every stone, every wall. The city was immense, spiraling upwards over the rock face, over the ground. A complete and utter ruin of what once could have been an Ancient outpost. Waterfalls cascaded around them. "This will take days. Weeks!" He glanced at the mutant men working with them. "That bald bastard better be telling the truth about Moira."

"With any luck Atlantis has sent a rescue team," Matthew added, leaning on a crude pickaxe. "Do you think Aaron is alive?"

"I hope so." Prodded Evan resumed working. Stared at the long rows of stones, of walls. All waiting to be cleared of the moss. Miles of broken masonry.


	6. Chapter 6

Survival of the Fittest6

John settled the Jumper next to the other one. He grabbed his gun, followed Ronon and Jason Reynolds out of the ship. An anxious Rodney darted ahead of them to the other ship. It was battered but intact. "Katie! Katie, open the–"

The hatch opened. Katie flew into Rodney's arms. "Rodney! Thank God! Please!" She pulled him to the injured marine. George Larson was lying on the floor, a makeshift tourniquet on his arm. Jason grabbed a medkit, set to work.

"Katie, where did they go? Katie!" John snapped, after a quick assessment of the injured man.

"Through the trees! North. Colonel, be careful! Those men...they are mutated, bizarre...not fully human...they don't speak!"

John nodded, glanced at Ronon. "Reynolds, stay here. Rodney, fly the Jumper back to Atlantis. Larson needs medical assistance now."

"But you–" Rodney protested.

"We're going to get our people. I'm not losing anyone else." A dark cloud hovered on him, but John shoved it aside. Buried it. "Go. Give us one hour, then attempt contact. Then retrieval with a full team. Go!" John strode out of the ship, Ronon on his heels. Quickly they circled the emerald pool. "At least they didn't take our ordnance." He gathered the dropped guns, threw a few to Ronon.

"There's blood. Here." Ronon was kneeling in the ferns, frowning.

"Can you track it?"

"Yes." Ronon headed for the tree-line.

John followed. "Rodney, copy? Don't go just yet. We have injured nearby. Send Reynolds to our twenty for retrieval."

"Copy, Sheppard." Rodney watched the men disappear into the trees, watched Jason rush after them with long strides.

Ronon stopped. Knelt. "It's Josephes. He's alive. Just."

John ran to them. "Reynolds! Here!" He knelt next to the lieutenant. The young man was pale, sweaty. Blood covered his leg. "Josephes, what the hell happened?"

Aaron groaned as Jason joined them, examined the younger man's injury. "There were hundreds, sir! Some kind of Cro-Magnon mutant men. They took Lorne, Moira, and Parrish. Down that way! They dumped me here because I couldn't keep up with them!" He struggled to sit up, fell back. "Sir, they took them! They took–"

"Easy, lieutenant. At least they want them alive," John assured. "They didn't speak?"

"No, sir...just a grunting stammer...I don't think it was a language but..."

"Reynolds, get him to the Jumper. Rodney," John tapped his earpiece, "once Reynolds returns you have a go. Get the injured to Atlantis." John glanced at Ronon. "Can you–"

"This way." Ronon led him through the thick foliage.

They walked for what seemed like hours. Fighting through tangled vines. Steep foliage that conspired to block their every step. John wished he had a machete. Used his P90 to hack through the overhanging moss that threatened to swallow him. Ronon used his bare hands to tear apart anything and everything in his path.

"End of the trail." Ronon peered over a cliff. Water sparkled several feet below them.

John slipped, caught himself. "Damn moss is everywhere. Much more than the last time." He stared round. "They went over? All of them?"

"Looks like it." Ronon spun, gun raised. John turned. Noises in the greenery behind them. Grunts and groans. The snapping of branches. "Sheppard."

Men appeared. Heavily built, muscled. Low brow ridges. Receding chins. Bony protrusions that John recognized from Ford's men. But these weren't Ford's men. Some waved rifles. The weapons drew John's attention. The old-fashioned guns. They advanced. Only four. Then seven. Then ten.

"Don't shoot. Not yet. Let's go."

"Over?" Ronon asked. Glanced down the cliff side.

"Yeah." John stepped towards the edge. The men advanced. Grunting. Growling. Beady eyes full of hostility. A shot hit the moss near his feet. "I'd say now. Now!" He stepped off the edge of the cliff. Ronon followed, yelling.

*************************************************************************

"Leave it!" Evan shoved the mutant aside, grabbed the canteen and drank greedily. He handed it to Matthew who had collapsed on a rock. The botanist drank eagerly.

"Major...I can't go on..." he wheezed.

"We need to rest. To rest!" Evan insisted. The mutants shoved him, gestured. Shook a stick.

"No." Evan sat down. "We need to rest, damn it! Go get your leader! The bald one!" The mutant snarled. Shoved. Evan shoved back, suddenly punched the man's jaw.

"Major, no!" Matthew objected.

"Ow!" Evan shook his sore fist. "Son of a–" He spun as he was shoved. Fell to the ground as they mutant clobbered him angrily.

"Stop! We'll work! See? See!" Matthew began to resume prying off the moss as Evan groaned, spit out blood. "Major, get back to work. They're too strong. Think of Moira. We can't let anything happen to her!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Evan grumbled. Forced himself to stand. Resume digging with a shovel. "If anything happens to her there will be hell to pay," he muttered.

**********************************************************************

John hit the water hard. Sank to the bottom. He struggled towards the surface, gasping as he broke through the water. Grasp tight on his P90. Legs pumping as he kept himself afloat. Ronon shot out of the water near him. Creating a geyser of liquid as he ejected himself from the bottom of the pool. "Ronon!"

"Fine! Shore!" He began to swim, deep, long strokes that left waves in his wake. John followed, slinging his gun over his shoulder. He clambered out of the water, fell to his knees weighed down by water, by weapons. "Sheppard."

John looked over to find them surrounded by more of the men. "Shit. Don't move. Put down your gun. Try to look less threatening."

"What?"

"They should take us to our..." John stopped talking. Stared as the leader grunted. Strode to them. Vegetation hung from his tattered clothing like bizarre ornamentation. He gestured, speaking a strange, noisy language that had no recognizable words. He neared, sniffed Ronon. The Satedan snarled, lunged to shove the leader. Was instantly set upon. "Ronon! Leave it be!" John ordered as his friend struggled. He watched the leader slap Ronon with a long stick, causing him to fall to the ground.

The leader gestured. Snapped words that weren't words. He approached John. Sniffed. Sniffed again, leaning close. Too close for comfort.

John veered backwards from the fetid odor. "God I hope this isn't some weird ritual." The leader grinned. Pointed. Gestured. Laughter ensued among the men.

"What the..." Ronon stared, wiped blood from his split lip.

"I have no idea. Maybe it's my deodorant. Hey!" John was hauled to his feet, stripped of TAC vest, weapons, earpiece. Dragged around the pool. "Ronon, just go with them!" he ordered as others dragged the big man in the opposite direction.

"What's the plan?" Ronon shouted.

"Hell if I know! Let me think of one!" John retorted, struggling to be free, to walk. "All right, all right, I'm going, damn it!" They descended into a cave. Past a sparkling pool. Moss was everywhere. Tiny blue flowers bloomed.

The leader grunted, gestured, talked in the weird guttering language. Hoots and hollers ensued, echoing off the cave's walls. Several slapped John on the back like a friendly gesture, but it nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Cut it out! Damn it, cut it out!" he snapped, falling to his knees on the mossy ground. Stared ahead of him. Near the mossy wall Moira was shakily moving to her feet. Unharmed. "Moira!" he called, relieved.

"John? John!" Moira ran to him as he stood, catching her as she flung herself into his arms, nearly knocking him down again. "John, John!" she said, hiding her face against his chest. She held onto him tightly as relief overwhelmed her.

John's arms enfolded her. He guided her to the wall, glancing at the men silently watching. Watching. "Moira, Moira, it's all right. I'm here. We're getting out of here. What the hell is going on?"

She stepped out of his grasp, calmed herself. "You...they knew to bring you to me."

"What?" He half-turned to see them all still watching. Silent. "What the hell is going on here, Moira?"

"I, I don't know...John..." He turned back to her, touched her rosy cheek.

"Are you all right? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No. No..." Suddenly embarrassed she hugged him, hid her hot face against his shoulder. Seeking solace in his solidity. His strength. "John. I don't know where Evan and Matthew are. And, and Aaron was injured!"

"We found him. He's safe now." John kissed her cheek. "Honey, are you sure you're really all right?" he asked into her ear.

She forced herself to step back from him, to free him. "Yes. I..." She looked at the watching men. Colored again recalling the sniffing. The extremely rude sniffing of the leader. She held onto John's arm, pulled him to sit next to her. Against her and the wall. "They came out of no where. There's a man...unaffected...normal...speaks English."

"There is? Where? Did he tell you anything?"

"I don't know...he..." She closed her eyes a moment, opened them. Met his concerned, bewildered gaze. "He said they won't hurt me. Or you. They need, they need recruits to build a city. A city."

"A city? What city?" John glanced again at the men. "Where is this guy? How do we contact him?" He made to rise.

"No! John!" She pulled him to her. "I don't know. Don't go!"

Hearing her anxiety he relented, sat next to her. Slipped his arm around her waist. "Not without out, Moira. Relax. I won't let anything happen to you. What do you think these men...are?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Some early humans...not us, but close. Affected by the enzyme but not, not like Ford...or you were...they..." She struggled to think coherently.

John eyed them. Studied the cave. Looked at the overflowing moss. Turned to examine the wall. Saw a tunnel leading off from it. Felt fresh air. He turned back to her. "All right. We've got an egress point. I think. Do you have any idea where the others were taken?"

"No. I woke up here. Alone..." She shuddered at the memory. "They won't let us go until the work is done."

"We'll see about that." He frowned, freed Moira to move directly in front of her. "Why are they staring at us like that? What the hell do they want?" he asked tersely. The silent, expectant gazes were unnerving.

"They expect you to mate."

At the clear, concise voice John moved to his feet, pulling Moira with him. He kept her behind him as a bald man approached, paused near the crouching leader. "Who the hell are you?" John snapped.

"You're the one, then. Good thing you showed up now. Once your scent is off her your woman becomes his." He pointed to the leader. "His to claim. Unless you claim her first."

"Claim? Scent? What?" John asked, bewildered. Recalled the sniffing. The laughter. Quickly he glanced back at Moira who blushed, hid her face against his back. He looked at the bald man. "Look, pal, we just want to find our friends and leave this–"

"No. The city must be completed. Meanwhile you wait. You claim her, or he does. Eh, Niko?" The bald man issued a guttural suggestion that made the leader grin. The others hoot.

"Wait! What city? What are you talking about?"

"They won't let you leave," the bald man stated. "Not with her unclaimed. So fuck her again, or leave her. Your choice."

John tensed. Glowering he took a step forward. "You son of a –"

"John! No!" Moira pulled him back to her as they men growled, snarled. The leader stood, waved a large stick.

"I will go check on your friends," the bald man offered.

"Wait!" John cursed, stepping back with Moira as the bald man disappeared. The leader growled, towering over them. Making threatening gestures. "Shit! See? Why do you think I want to keep my private life private?" he rued.

She smiled, guided him to the wall. "John...what are we going to do?"

He considered. The grunts had subsided. The leader resumed his crouch, stick on the ground. Waiting. Grinning. "I don't think I can take him. Certainly not all of them at once. If I had to choose...I'd prefer sex to fighting."

"What?" she exclaimed, startled.

He turned to her, guided her to the ground. The moss was soft, spongy. He kissed her, moved her onto her back.

She stopped him. "John! You can't be serious! There is no way in hell we are having–"

"You heard the man. I have to claim you. Or he will. Your choice." He kissed her again. Laughed suddenly at the absurdity of it all.

Moira hit his arm. "John! It's not funny! John!"

"Ssh," he kissed her again, moving over her. "You really think I'd share you with anyone? Anything?" he said into her ear. "Simulate, Moira. Trust me. Simulate. We always seem to have pretend sex on this planet, don't we?" he instructed. Hands running over her wet clothes. He moved up her wet, clingy shirt. Kissed over the scar on her side. Tasting wet, warm skin.

Moira gasped, shifted despite herself. She flushed, glancing at the crowd watching. Some groaned. John's own groan made her turn her head back as he moved up her body. He kissed her lips, her throat. "John?" she whispered, shifted. Felt his own reaction.

He smiled, met her gaze. "Sorry, sweetheart. You really should come with a warning label."

"John, you–"

"Simulate me, baby," he instructed, moving against her in a very obvious way. Moaning.

"Don't call me baby," she scolded, but kissed him, began to audibly convey her own pretend arousal. Gasps and whimpers escaping her lips.

"That's better. Simulate. Pull me closer," he instructed, glancing at the audience. Some were rocking. Groaning. An appreciative wave went up at her vocalizations. "Louder. Louder," he intoned against her skin.

Moira sighed, pulled him against her. Legs opening wider. "Damn it, John, you really owe me for this!" she complained, began to squirm, gasping and moaning loudly.

An answering wave from the crowd made a laugh escape John's lips. He buried it in her hair, on her skin. "Ah...you are way too good at this, baby."

"Shut up, John! You better have a plan!" she snapped, repeating her moans, her sharp cries as if climaxing. "John!" She hit his arm again as he began to move against her in earnest.

"Sorry! You've got me coming with that mouth of yours," he accused. Kissed her. "Hold on tight, Moira."

"What?"

"Loud! Loud!" He groaned with exaggerated overstatement, rolled them so she was on top. Moira moaned, cried out in a prolonged whimper. He rolled them back, closer to the tunnel. Glanced at the audience as he shoved against her. Most were groaning. Rubbing. Doing things that he would rather not see.

"Oh my God..." Moira gasped, staring past his shoulder. Seeing things she never thought she would.

"Time to go. This performance is over...poor guys," he noted with a grin. He jumped to his feet, pulled Moira to hers. "I know how they feel," he sadly commented. Pulled her down the tunnel.

"Shut up, John!" she said breathlessly. "Why aren't they following?"

"Trust me. It will take a few minutes for them to realize the show's been cancelled." He laughed suddenly. "You know, usually with you a mission is a B-horror movie. But this was has turned into a porno. Not that I'm complaining but still–"

She hit his back. "John! It's not funny! Shut up!"

He pulled her into a run. "It's hilarious, Moira. Except for the unfulfilled sex part. Damn it. You owe me, I think." They ran up the tunnel's incline. Feet nearly bouncing off the moss. Fresh air beckoned. They ran out onto a plateau. A jungle full of greenery surrounded them. Moss was everywhere.

Moira stopped, staring. "What could have caused the explosion of moss proliferation?"

"Unless you want to be their jungle queen we need to keep moving," he urged. "This way." He glanced back towards the cave. Heard shouts. Grunts. Angry realization. "Spell's broken! Come on!"

They ran into the trees, ducking, dodging as the noise of their pursuers grew louder. Closer. John paused. "Jackpot! Here!" He crouched in the ferns, grabbing assorted guns.

Moira crouched across from him, looking past him. "I don't see them yet. They'll be able to smell us..." she grimaced, briefly met his gaze. Frowned. "It's not funny!"

"Sorry." He grinned, stuck a 9mm handgun into his pants, shoved another at her. "Here."

She took it, moved it behind her to place it like he had. He laughed, caught her arm. "What?"

"Whoa there, sweetheart." He took the gun. Clicked on the safety. Moved close to wrap his arms around her. Lift her shirt. Slide the gun into her pants. "You don't want to shoot off that pert little ass, now. That would be a tragedy."

"John! Shut up or–" He cut off her protest with a kiss. Drew back. Shoved a P90 into her hands.

"Here. Up the ridge. We need a good hiding spot." He grabbed the other two guns, led her through the foliage. Vines snagged. Ferns brushed their legs. Grasses tangled their boots. The trees became denser. Harder to maneuver around. But provided better coverage. The hoots and hollers seemed to surround them. Gunfire rent the air.

John paused, searching the terrain. He advanced, stepped off the cliff into thin air. "Shit!" He pulled back as Moira stumbled into him. "Cliff. Hold on." He scanned the terrain again. Listened to the pursuing horde. "They're flanking us. Both sides. But they can't get through this stuff as quickly as we can. Ah."

"Ah? Not that again," she wearily complained.

"See that?" He pointed, moved to his knees. She did the same. Stared at a green overgrowth, a tunnel heading up along the cliff. Concealed unless you were looking for it. "Go. Just stay away from the edge."

"Good idea, colonel," she sarcastically agreed. "It could be a dead end. You don't know–"

"We need the cover. Now. Go. I'll be right behind you. Believe me." He grinned.

She glared at him. "Damn it." She moved to her hands and knees. Began crawling into the green tunnel. "Stop staring at my ass!" she snapped.

John laughed, following on his hands and knees. "Sorry, baby. There's nothing else to look at, and I need to keep an eye on you. Not that I mind," he taunted, following her swinging hips. The curves of her rear were hugged by the wet pants. "I'd follow that pert little ass anywhere. Especially in those tight, drenched pants. Say, Moira, you are wearing panties, aren't you? From this angle it is hard to tell."

"Shut up, John!" she called tersely over her shoulder. She crawled quickly. Could almost feel his heavy gaze on her. "We are not having sex again. Ever!"

He laughed. "Hey, Moira, sex with me saved you back there. My scent all over you, right? So don't go cutting off our best means of defense."

"Hilarious, John!" She emerged onto a small clearing, on the edge of the cliff. She looked down. "John!"

He moved beside her. Stared. The city spread for miles. What was left of a city. Ruins dominated. Towers were broken. Every stone was covered, inundated by the moss. Dozens of the mutated men swarmed over the site.

"Ah. Three o'clock."

"What?"

"To the right," he tiredly translated. Pointed.

"Why didn't you just say so, then?" she snapped. "I'm not one of your marines! Oh! Evan!"

Evan, Matthew and Ronon were standing near one of the broken towers. Hands tied by rope.

"Ronon?"

"Yeah. Looks like a work break. What are they looking at?"

"Beats me." She scanned the site. "It looks Ancient, but very low tech. Destroyed centuries ago. Isn't it strange, John, how the enzyme isn't affecting them like the earlier inhabitants? The cave creatures," she clarified. "I wonder if they have a natural immunity."

"Here." John took the P90. Loaded a fresh clip. Handed it back to her. "Hold it like this." He positioned her fingers. "Sight along here, see?" He moved behind her, adjusting her hold of the weapon. "Like so."

"What are you–"

"I'm going to get our men."

She looked at him in alarm as he pulled a long knife from his boot. He grabbed the remaining guns. "No! I mean...you're just going to leave me here?"

He met her gaze. "Yes. You're my sniper, Moira. You are perfectly safe here. Perfectly concealed. Keep eyes on our twenty. If we need cover lay fire to buy us time. You don't have to hit anything, just hold our position. All right?"

"I...okay...colonel."

He smiled. "I wouldn't leave you here if I didn't think you'd be safe. Cover our six. I'll come back for you, I promise. I promise." He moved to leave, returned. Caught her face gently in his hands and kissed her deeply. "For luck," he smiled. Then was gone. Crawling into the greenery.

"Don't stare at my ass!" he called over his shoulder.

She laughed. "Can't help it, sweetie. You do have a fine one!" she retorted. Sobered. Looked back at the city, at her colleagues. Gun at the ready.


	7. Chapter 7

Survival of the Fittest7

John moved swiftly down the cliff side. Silently. He had found a narrow but useful trail. Stomped over the vines and moss that clung to every inch of ground. The hoots and grunts were still all around him. But not close. He skidded over the sheer edge, pulled back to grab a length of vine clinging to the rocky wall at his back. He skirted the dense growth. Bracing himself he jumped over the edge, landed on his feet. But rolled into the undergrowth. Spit out a fern as he surveyed the site. The men were walking slowly. John scooted closer to his own men. Scrambled to his knees. Waited. Waited.

"How's the arm?" Evan asked, eying Matthew.

The botanist flexed it. Groaned. "Sore. I may have pulled something major. Major." A brief snort of amusement.

"Don't worry. We'll get out of here," Ronon assured. He wiped his split lip with his bound hands. Stared at the mutated men.

"I just hope the colonel's with Moira," Evan said grimly. "Wherever that is."

"He is. He won't leave without her," Ronon stated. He met Evan's gaze. Shared understanding passed between the two men.

"She's alive," Evan realized. Relaxed.

"How do you know?" Matthew asked. "Those natives could have killed her out of hand by now."

"She's alive," Ronon agreed. "Of she wasn't these guys would be shot to hell by now."

"What makes you say that?" Matthew asked, puzzled.

"Because he knows me," John answered. He moved to them, began cutting the ropes.

"Colonel! Is Moira–"

"Safe, major. Covering us."

"Thank God! Can we go now?" Matthew stammered.

"What about Josephes, sir? Ronon said he was still alive–"

"And back in Atlantis by now," John said. "Ronon?"

"I've been biding my time," he complained.

"Oh oh." John glanced up as he heard hoots and grunts. "Here come the rest. Follow me. Do not engage unless necessary." He handed the men the extra guns.

"What? Now you don't want me to–" Ronon protested.

"Not yet. Not until we–" Gunfire ricocheted near them. A wave of men rushed towards them. "Come on!" John led them in a dodging run towards the trees. "Moira, now would be a good time!" he urged under his breath.

Moira watched their escape. Heard the gunfire. Saw their escape in danger of being aborted. "Shit." She fired, nearly fell backwards, adjusted her stance on her knees. Sighted. Fired awkwardly. A stream of bullets cleared a perimeter as the men fell back, shouting.

"What the–" Evan wondered.

John smiled. "That's my woman! This way!" The men veered, ran.

Moira fired, fired, keeping the horde back while her friends made the tree-line. Disappeared into it. She kept firing, laying ground cover until the gun suddenly stopped. The empty clip fell out. "Oh oh." She dropped the P90. Grabbed the 9mm out of her pants. Clicked off the safety. Fired. Fired. Paused. "Can't waste ammo," she muttered. Watched the mutants swarm ahead. "Hurry, John. Hurry!" she urged.

The men ran. Paused. "Which way?" Matthew asked.

"They're coming in fast, sir!" Evan warned, lifting his gun to fire.

"Also from the ridge! There! And...there!" Ronon gestured with his gun. Smiled. "Yours."

John shrugged. "Yeah, just great, our party meets yours." He scanned the foliage. "All right. Go there. Up to that red flowering thing."

"An early rhododendron, if I'm not mistaken, or perhaps a new species of hibiscus that–"

"Like I said, the red flowering thing!" John snapped. "Shoot if you must. We need stealth more than firepower. I'll go retrieve Moira and join you. Move!"

Moira stared at the city. It was empty, completely devoid of mutants. She scanned the towers. The moss. The density of structures, curious. Further along a deep pool glimmered cobalt. Hearing noises she whirled. Held the gun ready. Waited. Waited.

"Don't shoot!" John called. "Moira! It's me!" John crawled out of the tunnel, smiled. "Time to go."

She relaxed, handed him the P90. "It's out of ammo. Is everyone all right?"

"For now. Let's go. You first."

"You...John? John!" she scowled.

He smiled. "I insist." He gestured towards the tunnel.

"You bastard," she complained. Moved to her hands and knees. Crawled into the tunnel.

John laughed. Followed her. "It's a purely military decision, baby, I swear."

"Bullshit, colonel!" He laughed again.

Moira moved to her feet swiftly. "Where–"

"There. The red flowery thing."

"You mean the rhododendron?"

"Whatever! That red–" He pushed her back as the mutants suddenly tore through the trees. "Go! Go!" They ran up the slope, darting over vines.

"Moira! Here!" Evan gestured, relief on his face seeing his teammate. He grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the small rise. The cliff edge was only inches away from them.

John joined them, whirled. Mutated men surrounded them. "Great."

"Sir, there's a pool down there. Further up the ridge if we can reach it," Evan suggested. A howling chorus nearly drowned his words.

"I say we shoot our way out," Ronon observed.

"No. There's too many of them!" Matthew objected. Staring as the mutated men moved closer. Cutting off all escape. Except the cliff.

"That pool is near the city's edge," Moira said. "We should go back there. There's something down there. I saw a light. A flash."

"She's right, sir. There was a weird humming sound. I could feel it but I couldn't really hear it," Evan confirmed.

"That must be what they're trying to uncover," Matthew realized.

"Where the hell is baldy?" John asked, debating. "Okay. Move slowly up the cliff." As they stepped the men growled. Snarled. Waving stick and guns. "Stop!" John ordered.

"I still say we shoot it out," Ronon repeated.

Moira sighed. "The things I have to do." She stepped past Evan, past all of her colleagues.

"Whoa, Moira, you–" John caught her arm.

She turned to him. "As soon as you can you all need to make for the ridge. Jump over the edge to hit the pool. I'll be right behind you."

"What? Like hell, Moira!" Evan protested, but her gaze was locked with John's.

"Trust me. You'll know when to go," she insisted.

John considered. Freed her arm. Nodded.

"Sir! You can't let her!" Evan exclaimed, moving. The men snarled. Shouted.

"Easy, major. You heard the lady. Wait for our chance. She knows what she's doing. Exactly what she's doing," he realized.

"Watch and learn, boys," Moira sighed. She stepped boldly past her friends, into the clearing. Silence fell abruptly. "Niko!" she called. "Niko! Eso! Eso Niko!"

"She, she speaks their language?" Evan asked. Shocked.

John shrugged. "Some of it."

"Niko!" she repeated, trying to approximate the guttural words she had heard. The men parted. The leader stepped into the clearing. Headed for her. Paused. Glanced past her to the watching team. Looked at her. She smiled, strolled to him, swaying her hips. "Niko," she purred, voice sultry. Breathy. "Niko eso? Eso Niko." The leader appeared stunned, whether by her bold approach or her appropriation of their language she couldn't tell

Moira paused. Gestured. Shook her head. Spoke the words she hoped were right. Pointed at the men behind her. Denial. She gestured as Niko had, swaying her hips. Pointed at John. "Eso! Eso!"

All eyes hit John. He smiled, raised a brow. Raised his open palm in a slight wave. "That would be me," he acknowledged, guessing her meaning.

"Huh? Sir, what is she–" Evan asked, bewildered.

"Later, major."

Moira turned back to Niko. "Eso...na!" She gestured, shook her head. Spat. Niko laughed uproariously. As did the other mutants. The noise was loud, filling the air.

Ronon grinned. "I wish I knew what that meant."

"So do I...but I think I was just insulted," John agreed.

Moira began to circle the leader, swaying her hips. Sashaying boldly. She ran her hands over the broad shoulders of the man. "Niko eso," she purred. "Niko eso good? Hmm?" She paused, touched his chest, stepped back. Circled again. Paused to glance at the team. "You can start moving, boys," she urged. She circled again, humming. Gyrated slowly. Ran her hands over her damp clothes, over her breasts, her hips. Licked her lips. Smiled.

The team was riveted on her. "Men," she complained. "Go now. John, now!"

"Wha...oh...go now," he repeated. "Lorne." He shoved the major in the shoulder "Go slowly."

"Wha...oh...yeah. Sir." Evan grinned at his distraction.

"You heard the jungle queen. Go. One by one." John looked back at the clearing. Moira was circling again. Her provocative walk, her swinging hips, her swinging hair irresistible. Her damp clothes clinging to every curve. Every mutant was riveted, staring. Silent. The leader was staring, open-mouthed.

Moira glanced over her shoulder. Finally the team was moving slowly along the ridge. Tripping and forced to turn away to watch their steps. Evan. Matthew. Ronon. She turned, circled, ran her hands on Niko's chest. Took his hands and ran them over her breasts. Darted back before he could grab. She laughed. Ran her hands along her hips. Fingers sliding to her crotch before drawing away, a teasing motion. She turned. "John!" she scolded. "Go! Now!"

"I'm enjoying the show, Moira," he retorted, watching every move she made.

"Go! I'll be right behind you. Promise." She turned back to Niko, hummed. "Niko eso," she moaned.

John backed up the slope, forcing himself to move. To step. But he couldn't stop watching. "Moira," he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

She sashayed around Niko, deliberately swinging her hips, sticking out her rear, arching her back to cup her breasts. "Eso, eso," she whimpered in longing. Turned. Blushed. "Damn it, John"! Saw his hand sliding unconsciously down to his crotch. "You're as bad as they are! Go!"

John jerked his hand away, grinned with embarrassment. "Damn, Moira, you...lots of eso," he teased. Turned and climbed the ridge.

She smiled, turned back to dance around the leader. Hummed. Stroked. Waited. Waited.

"Sir?" Evan asked, looking past him.

"She's coming, major. Give her a second." John looked back down the ridge, trapping the laughter his words had inadvertently produced. "We're all coming," he muttered. "Moira!"

Moira stopped, scrambled as the leader grabbed at her. Ripped part of the bottom of her shirt. The fabric's damp threads parted easily as he yanked. "No eso!" She kicked at his crotch. Niko squealed, doubled over in pain. She whirled, ran.

"Moira!" John called, began to head down the ridge.

"Go! Go! Jump!" she shouted, racing into view. A tremendous cacophony erupted behind her.

"Go! Jump!" John ordered, stepping up the ridge.

"Jump!" Moira shouted, running towards John. The horde followed, screaming.

"Get down!" John shouted. As Moira dove for cover he fired into the surging mob. "Moira!"

She scrambled to her feet. "Jump!" she shouted, crashing into him.

John grabbed her, pivoted, threw them over the edge. They fell, fell. Hit the water. John loosened his grip, pushed them up, up towards the surface. They broke the water, gasping and spitting. John eyed the ridge. It was lined with the mutants.

"Sir! Here! Moira!" Evan beckoned.

"John! Come on!" Moira pulled his arm. They swam towards the ground. Were pulled out of the water. "Evan, can you find the–"

"This way!" Evan led them through a maze of broken masonry. Through the thick, at times impenetrable moss. The ground vibrated under their feet. "Moira."

She stepped next to Evan. A rocky outcropping surrounded an array of crystals. Glowing in bright colors. "Listen." There was a faint hum. "I can almost hear it. Just below our auditory threshold."

"Ancient tech. But very...old. Old-fashioned," Matthew commented.

"What's powering it?" Ronon asked, circling it. "I don't see a ZPM."

"We need to get back to the Jumper," John said, brushing past them. "This isn't important right now. We need to–"

"No!" Moira grabbed his arm, but she was too late. John's fingers brushed the device. The vibrations stopped. The lights dimmed. Went out with a flash. "Oh oh."

"What?" John asked.

"Turn it back on!" Matthew urged.

John touched it. Nothing. He smacked it. "What did I–"'

"You just turned off the only thing keeping those enzyme-addled cavemen relatively sane! Good going, flyboy!" she scolded.

"What? How–"

"The auditory hum! We can't hear it, but they can. It probably controls the worsening side effects of the enzyme!" she explained.

"In other words, sir, you just set loose a rampaging horde of cavemen," Evan translated.

"Crap," John noted.

Ronon laughed. "So, now what?" He glanced around. Heard the abrupt increase in sound. In pure animal rage. Incoherency. "They're coming from all over."

Matthew fiddled with the crystals. "It's dead. The ATA gene triggered its release."

"Good work, colonel," Moira acerbically commented. Hands on hips.

"Look, I didn't know! I–" he argued.

Moira turned. "All right, boys. These cavemen are going to be experiencing increased adrenaline surges. They'll be faster, more bloodthirsty. But we're smarter. Most of us." She glanced at John. Before he could protest she resumed. "They have heightened senses, so we'll have to rely on stealth."

"I already said that!" John argued.

"And silence," she continued, ignoring him. "This way." She began to stride through the ruins.

"Sir?" Evan asked, trying not to laugh.

John sighed. "You heard the jungle queen. Ronon, on six. Lorne, point. Parrish, middle. Go." John darted ahead, caught sight of Moira. "Hey! Jungle queen! Hey, your highness!"

She whirled. "What? What is it now?"

He shoved her against a stone wall. Kissed her. Pulled back. "Just asserting my claim." He flashed a grin.

She shoved him. "Men! Come on!"

"I'll lead–"

"You've done enough!" she snapped. "Somebody's got to save our skins."

"After you, your worshipfulness," John replied. "Chewie, step it up!" he called over his shoulder. The grunting echoed. Louder. "Run! Moira, run! Come on!" he shouted.

Moira ran, leading them out of the city, into a waterfall. They dove through the curtain of water into a cave.

John stopped. "Go! Go!" He pushed Matthew into the cave. "Ronon!"

Ronon whirled, firing his gun. "Go! They're right on our tail! Thirty or forty! Ravening things! Moira better know what's she doing!"

"That makes two of us! Go!" John fired , crouching as Ronon passed him. Darting into the cave. He stared at the advancing menace.

"Sheppard!"

John fired, spun, ran after Ronon. Climbed after him. Bullets zinged. Something sliced into his arm but he kept going. Slipped. Fell.

"John! John!" Moira yelled. She beckoned as he looked up, up the cliff. "Move your ass!"

He smiled. "That's my fine, fine ass," he corrected. Began to climb. Ronon fired as did Evan, covering him. As he reached the top Ronon hauled him over the side. "Go! Go!" he ordered.

He shoved Moira ahead of him. They ran out of the cave, whirled.

"Push the rock! The rock!" Moira shouted. The men rolled an enormous boulder over the opening. Effectively blocking it, at least temporarily. Matthew collapsed , exhausted. Ronon checked the perimeter, gun at the ready. Evan leaned against the rock, catching his breath. John stepped to sit in the shade. Winced as he checked his arm. Blood flowed. Moira moved to him, ripped his sleeve open at the shoulder.

"Hey! You could at least buy a guy a drink first."

She smiled, wiped the blood with a clump of moss. "Analgesic, remember? Don't eat it. Looks like the bullet went straight through."

"Good. Ow!" He winced at her probing.

Moira tore a strip off her ripped shirt, shortening it yet again. She bound the injury. "Too tight?"

"No...not nearly enough," John commented, eyes on her breasts as the wet fabric clung. Molded to her. He met her scowl, smiled. "I'm fine, Moira. Don't you worry," he assured quietly.

Moira stepped to Ronon. "What do you think?"

Ronon frowned. "It will take days to reach the higher ground. The Jumper is way over there," he pointed to the distance. "Lots of climbing. Those things know the terrain better than we do."

"We need allies," she realized, scanning the foliage.

"We need ammo. We're almost out," Evan complained.

"We need a plan." John moved to his feet. He joined Moira, looking round the greenery. "If you don't mind?"

She snorted. "Be my guest, colonel."

He smiled. Stood surveying the terrain. "Allies. You're thinking of the caves?"

"Yes. I don't think they'd harm us." She frowned. "Me. They might perceive you as a threat. All of you," she noted, gaze encompassing the men as they gathered round.

"All right, jungle queen. Over there," John pointed up a mossy slope. "Cave entrance." He glanced back. The noise of their pursuers was getting closer. Louder. Sounds of pure incoherent rage. Disturbingly the rock blocking the cave was moving slightly. "Crap. Let's go. Lorne, flank. Ronon, six. I'll take point. Moira, go. Parrish, behind me."

They began to climb the ridge again, catching vines to avoid falling. Drenched with water and then sweat they persisted as the sun beat down upon them. Unrelenting. The moss was slick under their feet. There was a tremendous crashing noise, then a roar of rage.

"Sheppard! They're through!" Ronon shouted.

"Double-time, now!" John ordered. They climbed faster, catching each other before they fell. Clambered past a waterfall, darted under the next. Into a dark cave.

"Stop!" Moira halted them as their P90 lights hit multiple eyes. Reflecting a yellowish gleam. Skeletal figures cringing. Growling. Moira waved the men behind her. Advanced slowly. "It's all right, we won't hurt you," she soothed. Speaking softly. "We need your help. Hear them? Bad men come." She pointed towards the cave entrance. The mutants' roaring reverberations could be heard. "Help us, please."

"Moira, hurry," John urged. "We can't hold this position."

"Oh? I thought you could hold any position, John. Being a colonel and all," she added, smiling at him briefly. Ronon laughed.

"I've only got one clip left, sir," Evan informed. "If you go on I'll hold them off."

"Negative. We all go. Moira?"

"Yes, yes." She turned. "Follow me. Keep your weapons lowered. No aggressive motions." She eyed the men. Nodded. "Go...go..." Moira followed the creatures. The men exchanged suspicious, disbelieving glances, followed her. "Train your lights on the ground. It hurts their eyes," she instructed, treading carefully over the uneven rocks.

"Moira, we're going down. We need to be going up," John cautioned.

"Patience, John. We'll go up soon enough," she assured.

"After going down?" he asked, "Because I really, really like that, you know," he teased. The edge to his voice made her glance at him. He smiled, raised a brow.

She frowned. "Dial down the testosterone," she warned.

"Eso, baby," he taunted, unable to resist.

"Shut up, John. River to cross."

"Okay. Lorne?"

Evan approached. "No hostiles yet, sir."

"Good. Let's go."

Moira carefully crossed the water. It was cold. She followed the skeletal creatures. "This way? Okay. Thank you." She glanced over her shoulder. John was on her heels, stomping through the water. "See? Up." They began a slow ascent.

"I hear water," Evan remarked.

"Keep moving," John advised. A second later he sprinted ahead as they emerged into another cavern. "Wait!" He caught Moira's arm. The creatures scattered at his sudden movement.

"John!"

"Ssh!" He held up his free hand, halting the men behind him. Water poured down at the opening, a loud cacophony. Sunlight glittered brightly on the liquid. Creating miniature rainbows. "Head out. Slowly."

Moira darted under the water. Out onto a precarious ledge. She started down. Dusk was rapidly falling. A violet hue blotted the sky. Lightning flashed. She slipped but John caught her arm.

"Stop." He scanned the area. Turned. "It will be dark in one hour. We can't risk traveling in this terrain. We'll hole up in that cave. It's a good defensible position. Parrish, are any of these fruits edible?"

Matthew moved to examine the luscious bounty hanging from the trees. "Yes, colonel. Several are. Excellent sources of protein and water."

"Good. Let's gather what we can, and some water. Looks like we get to spend the night."


	8. Chapter 8

Survival of the Fittest8

Lightning crackled against the dark sky. Bolts of sizzling blue and white. Dangerously close. Sparkling in the waterfall concealing the cave's entrance. Moira shivered in her damp clothes as the temperature dropped. There was a tiny fire in the center of the cave. The men were gathered around it, eating, drinking. She joined them, seeking warmth from the tremulous flames.

"Moira." Matthew smiled, held out a large melon-looking fruit. "I saved this for you. Just for you. It is the best that we have."

She took it, puzzled by his demeanor. His smile. "Thank you, Matthew." She stepped away, bumped into Evan. "Oh!"

Evan smiled. "Here. Let me, Moira." He took the fruit, cut it into more manageable pieces. "You can eat this now. Savor every bite." He glanced at Matthew who was scowling.

"Thank you, Evan." She moved again, growing wary. Suspicious.

"Moira." She whirled as Ronon approached, smiled. Handed her a shell full of water. "Drink. I carved this cup for you out of this."

"Thank you, Ronon." She smiled, masking her worry. "Why don't you all sit by the fire?" As they did she breathed easier. Drank some water. She ate the fruit, slowly chewing, thoughtful. She looked at the waterfall as lightning flared. Revealing John on guard, staring out at the darkness. She swallowed. Wiped her mouth. Looked to see all three men staring at her. In a similar way. Similar to the cavemen.

"Moira." John was behind her, startling her. "Get by the fire. You must be cold."

"John..." She turned to him, studied his expression. Wondered. Looked back at the three men. "Oh no..." She moved into the darkness, began to pace, thinking. Thinking. Muttering softly. "This cannot be happening. This can't be happening. The enzyme, but how? What's the common denominator?" She paused, eying them. All four men were now watching her. She studied them. "Injuries...blood..." Evan's swollen lip. Ronon's split lip. Matthew's gash on his jaw. John's arm wound. "Moss...water...of course! The moss absorbs the water, mixes its secretions...limited doses, on injuries or drinking..." She dropped the shell to the ground. Resumed pacing. Paused by the water cascading down. Watched the lightning. She chewed on her lower lip, considering what to do. "Have to be careful, careful..."

Moira stepped to the fire. Hesitated. "We...we should get some rest. Sleep. I...I can stand guard while you do that. All of you. Right, John?"

"No, Moira," he replied. "We'll take it in turns. I'll go first." He eyed the men. His gaze narrowed. "Then Lorne. Ronon. Parrish. We leave at first light." He stood, moved to the cave entrance.

"John. I'll keep you company," she offered. Hastened after him. She caught his arm. "John, do you feel all right?"

He met her gaze. "I'm fine. Go back to the fire, Moira."

"No, no. I...." She glanced at the men. Sat next to John as he reclined near the wall. "John...you've had the, the least exposure. You might be more lucid."

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "What were you muttering about earlier?" He glanced at the men. "Get some sleep. Two hour shifts," he ordered.

Moira scooted closer, seeking the shadows. His solidity. "John, we have to be careful. You...me...the enzyme."

He touched her arm, stroked the damp, cold skin. "What? Moira." His gaze wandered over her. "You're cold. Wet. Tired."

She sighed. "Damn...too late, or are you just being you?" She glanced at the men. Debated. She settled against John. His arm encircled her, drawing her close. She touched his chest, shoulder. "I'm not sure. I think my best bet is here. Besides the enzyme acceleration you're the only one with the added emotional incentive."

"Incentive? For what?" he asked, stroking her back. He glanced out at the darkness.

"For protection," she answered softly. "You're the most likely to, to protect me. If it comes down to that. Which I hope it doesn't."

"Protect you? From whom? Those mutants?" She was silent, staring at the darkness, moving against him. "Moira?" He looked over at the fire suddenly. Saw the three men watching although the shadows cloaked them.

Moira felt his muscles tense. She caressed his chest. "John, John, just stay here. Please, please," she whispered. Lifted to lightly, very lightly kiss his throat, his lips. "John."

His arm tightened around her. "The enzyme, you said?"

"Yes, diluted, but yes."

"In me as well?"

"Yes, but diluted. Not like before. I just have to be careful is all," she moved out of his grasp. "I probably shouldn't be–"

"No." He drew her back against him. "You're not moving an inch from me." His hand ran down her back, to her rear before he stopped himself. Returned his fingers to her waist. "Crap."

"Just relax, John," she said.

"I don't think so, Moira. How long?"

"What?"

"How long until this wears off?"

"I...I don't know. The problem is they're not even aware of it. Not consciously."

"I am. That's all that matters."

She sighed. "You can't do anything hasty, John."

"Go to sleep. You're safe with me. Only me," he said, voice low. He could feel the strange adrenaline surge. The warmth of her soft, pliant body pressing his. The threat near the fire. Her erotic dance played in his mind. Her hands on another.

"John? You don't need to–" she began, feeling renewed tension in him.

"Go to sleep. I'm right here, Moira."

**************************************************************************

John moaned, turning onto his side. Shoving against Moira again. He opened his eyes, body tense. Muscles strained. He cleared his mind of the erotic images he had been dreaming. But his body remembered. He shifted, uncomfortable. Sat up suddenly, quietly groaned. "Moira. Moira!" He shook her.

Moira stirred, shifted against him, hand inadvertently sliding along his thigh. "Oh." She woke, sat up, eyes wide as she looked at him. "John," she accused, seeing his reaction.

He shrugged. "Hey, I blame your seductive dance. Damn...this is one raging hard-on."

"Colonel?" Evan approached as Moira turned round, moving her hand off John's thigh. Sitting to block a view of his lap. "Two hours. I'll sit with Moira now."

Moira was glad of the darkness. Did not want to know if the others were similarly affected.

"No. Go back to the fire. I'll stay with Moira," John argued.

"No, sir. You go back to the fire. I'll take care of Moira, believe me."

"Oh, I believe you, major. That's why she stays with me."

"Maybe she's tired of you, sir. Always giving her orders. Why not let her have another choice."

"She stays with me, major, and that's final," John stated, steel in his voice.

Moira sighed. Before tensions could escalate she stood, pulling John with her. "Evan, go back to the fire, please. I'll come sit with you in a moment."

"Moira," John protested, his hand closing over hers.

"I need to speak to the colonel. Privately," she explained. Touched Evan's chest, ran her hand up it even as John's fingers tightened on her other hand. "You know how stubborn he is. Let me talk to him, then I'll sit with you."

"Like hell," John muttered, but Evan smiled.

"All right, Moira. I'll be waiting." He glanced smugly at John, moved back to the fire.

John moved to follow but Moira blocked him. "Come on, John. Men!" she fumed, pulled him out of the cave. Water spattered on them as they crossed the threshold. She led him down the ridge. Moonlight glimmered from the clearing sky. "I'm really beginning to hate this planet." She reached an alcove, a hidden glen that was tiny. Damp with moisture. "There." She shoved him against the rock face. "I need you focused, John. Focused on getting us out of here, not on sex. Isn't this how you like it, John?" she asked, flinging herself against him. She kissed him. "Tight. Damp," she whispered harshly in his ear. "Snug and wet. So fucking wet."

He groaned, grabbing her. "Moira." He kissed her as his hands wandered under her shirt to her bra, to her breasts.

"No." She slapped his hands off her. "You need release, not me! I need you focused, John!"

"I am, believe me," he said hoarsely, hands reaching again. His fingers slid to her crotch. Probing.

"No! Not on sex! On escape!" She kissed him, ran her hands under his shirt. Felt the taut muscles, the damp chest hair curling as she stroked. She ran her mouth down his skin to his waist, moving to her knees. "I know this is one of your kinky fantasies, John. Damn you," she mildly muttered. "I need you full throttle. Now." She undid his pants, unzipped. John groaned in need, in surprise. He nearly bucked under her, leaned back on the rock as her hands plied his shorts. As her mouth threaded his damp boxers where his erection strained. Fought.

"Moira, oh Moira! God..." he rasped, hands catching in her hair. Pressing her closer, thrusting into her mouth now, staring down at her. Moira gently pressed her teeth against him, eliciting a growl of desire from him. She slid him out of her mouth, the damp fabric tasting like cotton, like sweat, like him. "That's as far as I go, you bastard," she said hotly, hands sliding up and down him now as she stood. She kissed him. He groaned loudly as her fingers stroked, stroked, faster and faster, squeezing and squeezing until he came in a spasm. Shuddering, thrusting in her hands. His mouth caught hers, demanding.

Moira freed him, moved away to wipe off her hands on the ferns as he messily spurted. "Men! Men!" she fumed, voice trembling with anger and frustrated desire. "You better be completely clear of that damn enzyme! We need to get back to the Jumper, to elude those ravening hordes. So clear your mind and body of that fucking enzyme and don't think of sex! And if you say anything, anything about this, about any of this before we reach Atlantis I swear we will never have sex again! Understood?"

John was resting against the rock, exhilarated. Spent. He fixed his clothes as the breeze cooled his hot skin. He breathed deeply, gaze locked on Moira. On her back. On her messy hair. On her rear. "Can I at least say thank you?" he gently teased.

She sighed. "You're welcome. Go on, get it our of your system. Five minutes! I don't want to hear another–"

He spun her to him, kissed her. Moved her back against the rock. "You're right, that is one of my kinky fantasies. Except in my fantasies you are always, always naked."

"John–" she warned.

"You said five," he countered, kissing her again. His hand sliding down between her legs. To caress as she squirmed. "Allow me to return the favor, please!"

"I don't need–"

"You do need. I can feel your need, my lush Moira. You know actual intercourse would have been just as good if not better than what you did for me."

"Three minutes," she warned tersely, but moaned as his fingers probed, probed. Nearly digging into her clothes now.

"I could go down on you," he said into her ear, kissing down her throat. "I could bring you like this, Moira...just like this...shit, I'm going to become aroused if I don't–"

"Stop! Stop!" She shoved his hand off her. Flushed. Stared at his amorous expression. His unkempt hair. The shirt clinging to his chest. The stubble on his handsome face. "Are you clear?"

He considered, having to look away from her. "Yeah. I think so."

"Let's go!" She took his hand, led him back up the ridge. "Focus. And remember what I said. One word, one word at all about this before Atlantis and–"

"No eso, got it, sweetheart," he finished for her. "Once we're in Atlantis, though," he teased, smiled.

"Think of it as added incentive for you to get us out of here," she prompted. Entered the cave. She freed her hand. "Get some sleep. Real sleep." She moved to the fire. "Evan."

Evan smiled. "Moira."

"You're on watch now. Go." She pointed, sat near the fire. John sat next to her, smiled as Evan scowled but moved to the cave's entrance. She stood suddenly. "No," she touched John's shoulder before he could follow. "I just need to be alone." She moved into the shadows by the far wall. Curled up on her side.

*************************************************************************

Moira stirred, rolled onto her other side. Smiled as a hand ran up to her breasts. Down to her thigh. Slipped between her legs over the clothing.

John smiled. "Come on, honey," he urged, sitting next to her. He leaned down, kissed her softly. Again. Guiding her. She rolled onto her back, giving him better access. He caressed, rubbed. She shifted, opening a little. Made noises in her throat, moaning softly. Reacting. "Come on," he urged quietly, fingers moving faster, deeper.

Moira moaned, whimpered. "John...oh John," she murmured, grabbing his hand to push it further. Harder.

"That's it, honey," he encouraged, kissing her again.

Moira's eyes flew open. She froze, stared at the darkness. The man above her whose hand she was practically thrusting into her. "No! No, no!" she squirmed, hit.

John caught her arms, moved her back. "It's me, Moira. Moira, it's only me," he soothed.

She relaxed, calmed. "John? You..." She shoved him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Ssh!" He kissed her, drew back. "I'm fine. I'm in control. Of everything. Nearly everything, I mean after hearing those sounds and feeling how you're..." He put a finger to her lips. "I'm thinking clearly now. Following your advice. The enzyme. Hormonal communication without being aware."

She moved his hand off her hip. "What?"

He freed her so she could sit. She looked at the fire. It was nearly gone, a dim orange glimmer. "Claim," he whispered against her ear. "You just chose. Undeniable. But completely unaware. Understood?"

"No...I..." She stared at the men. All were asleep, but fitful. Moving. "Are they...are they going to, to wake up like, like you did? Had..."she stammered, flushing. Hot.

He laughed quietly. "Probably, but not as...um...not as affected," he chose his words carefully, "as I was. Because you are way over here, out of reach. Out of touch. Out of, um, sensory range."

She looked back at him. "What are you trying so desperately not to say, John?"

"You don't really want to know, do you? Trust me, Moira. This diluted enzyme should be clear soon. From them. Trust me, you don't want to ask. You don't want to know how they'll wake up or how they'll, um, relieve it. Because of what I just...accomplished...they'll be more, um, any way, leave it at that."

"You...they...oh...oh ew!" she complained, realizing. Causing him to laugh again. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Ssh! I wish I was, Moira." He yawned. Scratched his head. Ran his hand over his stubbly jaw. "I'm thinking we have two more arduous hikes before we reach the Jumper. If we can avoid the cavemen. I wonder where that bald guy is. I don't like unknown variables. And why hasn't a rescue Jumper been sent? Moira?"

She was still staring at the men, an expression of disgust and annoyance on her face. "What?"

She met his gaze. "The last thing we need is more men!" He laughed. "It's not funny!"

"No, I guess not," he conceded, suddenly serious. "Stay by my side, Moira. That's an order."

"Yes, colonel." She sighed. "When do we leave?"

"First light. About..." he checked his watch, "another two hours. Go back to sleep. I'll keep watch."

She frowned. "I don't think so. Not with your wandering hands." Nevertheless she scooted against him, rested her head on his shoulder. "Don't do anything."

He smiled. "Me? I won't. Not unless you ask first. Or plead. Or beg."

"Shut up, John!" she scolded tiredly. Closed her eyes.

He held in his laughter. "Go to sleep, Moira. We'll be in the Jumper by lunchtime. Hope there's still food on board."

*********************************************************************

The loud clap woke Moira. She started, scrambled to her feet. John was standing near the fire. "Rise and shine, troops! Let's go! Now!" He turned, moved to her. Gave her a piece of fruit. "Here. The fruit should be okay, right?"

"I...I don't know. It should...but if the water is tainted then..."

"There's nothing we can do about that now." He turned back to the groggy men. "I said let's go! Now! Do your business and we're moving out." He turned back to her. "Let's go. Follow me." Moira glanced at the men, took the gun John offered her. He led her out of the cave. "This way." He began to climb the other side of the ridge.

"Colonel?" Evan called.

"This way, major. We've got a lot of climbing to do. Crap." He paused. "Moira, go ahead of me."

"What? Why?" She asked, saw his smirk. "For crying out loud, John!"

"Not me. Them. Go." He swatted her rear to move her. She glared at him but climbed ahead of him. He glanced back to see Evan in the lead, followed by Matthew and Ronon. "To the top. Then we can rest." He turned, caught sight of Moira's swinging rear as she hauled herself up the slippery ridge.

"Eyes on the vines, flyboy!" she called over her shoulder.

He smiled. "Yes, jungle queen. I'm right on your six." He laughed, following her.

Reaching another clearing they paused, catching their breath. Moira moved through them to a cave entrance. Water fell on the other side, a resounding crescendo. "How far do you think we are now?"

"Another hour." John studied the area. Pointed. "That looks familiar. If our luck holds the Jumper should be past that giant tree."

"I wonder where our friends are," Evan said, touching his sore lip.

"Maybe they gave up," Matthew suggested.

"Baldy can't be leading them, unless he was lying," John reasoned. "Usual positions. Ronon, six. Lorne, flank. Parrish, center. I'll take point with Moira."

"Why do you always take point with Moira?" Ronon asked suddenly. "How about you take the six and I'll take point."

"Because I said so. Because we're the only two lucid enough to know where we are going," John explained.

"Lucid? We're all lucid, sir," Evan argued.

"Not all of us. Yet." John eyed them. "Moira, lead us into the cave. You–"

"Wait! Ronon's right." Matthew joined the argument. "Why do you monopolize Moira's company? She is a scientist and should be with me, not you."

"Really?" John asked mildly.

"Boys!" Moira called, shaking her head. "Come on! Do as Colonel Sheppard orders. Including you, Matthew. The faster we follow his orders the faster we can get out of here! John!" she snapped, headed into the cave.

"You heard her," John said, quickly followed on her heels. "Damn! I thought they'd all be clear of it by now."

"This last climb should do it," she reasoned.

"Yeah...but they should have been clear when they..." He stopped himself.

"Don't, please, don't," she warned, feeling her face warm at the thought.

He laughed. "Sorry." Called over his shoulder, "Come on! Double-time! Keep moving, Moira."

She darted ahead. "Don't you worry. I'll run if I have to, John, to get away from you males."

"And I'll chase," he countered, grinning.

Moira cursed, fighting her way up without slipping, sliding on the moss. John's hand was on her rear, steadying her. He pushed and she scrambled over the top, rolled to her feet as he clambered after her. She glared.

"Wait, wait!" He held up a hand, catching his breath. "Physical necessity! That's all, I swear! Just be glad it was me behind your...behind." He laughed.

She relented, catching her breath. "I'll scout ahead."

"Don't go too far." He turned, helped Evan over the edge of the cliff.

Moira forced her way through the trees. A turmoil of emotion caused her to tear at the ferns. Embarrassment. Anger. Desire. Chagrin. Lust. She could feel the enzyme beginning to alter her chemistry, tried to ignore it. She paused, reaching the tree-line. Viewed the emerald pool. The welcome sight of the undisturbed Jumper. "John! John!" she shouted. Moira turned, hearing crashing sounds erupting from the trees. Except instead of her friends it was the horde of cavemen. A wave of grunting shattered the peaceful air. Shouts. Gunfire.

"Moira! Get to the ship!" John shouted, on the opposite side of the pool. The men cleared a line of fire as she ran through the ferns, straight for the Jumper. She stumbled, fell. Stared at the body of the bald man. He had been torn to pieces. Blood and guts spewed over the greenery.

"Moira, go!" John bellowed, advancing with Evan and Ronon flanking him.

Scrambling to her feet she jumped over the body, ran to the Jumper. Hit the door. Hit the panel. Again. "It won't open!" she cried, whirling. The horde was advancing.

"Shit. Cover me!" John dove into the emerald pool as Evan and Ronon fired repeatedly.

Moira watched anxiously, still trying to get the hatch to open. John swam across the pool, powerful strokes propelling him. He emerged, soaking wet, gun in hand. He fired mercilessly at the cavemen, running to the Jumper. "I'll cover you!" she said, taking the gun. She stepped in front of him, firing at the cavemen who were circling them.

John hit the controls, swore. Savagely pried off the panel. "That bald bastard tried to force his way into my ship!"

"He's dead," she informed him, stopping the gun.

"Hang on! McKay showed me this...hang on," he muttered, fiddled with the control crystals.

"Today, John," she urged.

"Hilarious, Moira. There!" He slammed the panel shut as the hatch opened. "Go! Fire her up!" He took the gun, shoved her into the ship. Whirled, shooting. "Ronon! Flank Parrish! Go, go!"

The three men ran towards the Jumper, weapons firing until a silence fell. Out of ammunition they dodged, ducked, raced into the Jumper. John slammed the hatch shut, ran to the front as Moira was powering up the vehicle. John slid into the pilot's seat.

"I don't know how to–" she began, falling into the co-pilot's seat.

"It's fine! Strap in!" The cavemen were all around them, banging on the ship. Shouting. Eyes wild. Furious. John touched the controls. The ship lifted, lifted. Cavemen fell off, screaming. He flew swiftly, turning suddenly to shake any remaining unwanted passengers from the vehicle. "That was too close. Moira, dial!"

Moira dialed Atlantis, punching in the 'Gate address. "John...it's not working!"

"What?" He flew higher, avoiding the caves and waterfalls. Brought up the HUD to check all systems.

"It won't dial the last symbol. It stops."

"Try again. I'm not reading any system failure."

Moira dialed. Again the last symbol flickered to life, then faded like the rest. "Still nothing."

"Wonderful. There's the 'Gate. We can use the DHD." He smoothly landed near it, stood. "Stay here. Lorne, with me." John opened the hatch. "Ronon, keep an eye out." He strode to the DHD with Evan as Ronon grabbed a gun, loaded it. The Satedan stepped out of the Jumper to stand guard.

John dialed the DHD. The chevrons flared. Faded. "Damn! Where is McKay when I need him?" He knelt, opened the panel of controls at the machine's base.

"Is it broken, sir?" asked Evan, looking round the clearing. All was peaceful. Still.

"No. I don't see anything out of place. Or missing crystals. McKay would be proud I can do this, you know."

Evan laughed. "That he would, sir. So the problem must be the 'Gate itself. That explains why we haven't been rescued."

"Yeah." John closed the hatch. Stood. Dialed again. "But we got here all right." He moved to the 'Gate. Evan followed. "Looks like we're going nowhere."


	9. Chapter 9

Survival of the Fittest9

Moira watched the two men move from the DHD to the Stargate. She frowned, seeing no improvement. No whirling of chevrons. No sudden KAWOOSH of the even horizon. Hearing movement behind her she said, "It doesn't look good, Matthew. Do you know anything about 'Gate travel?"

"I only know it's about time we were alone, Moira. That fucking colonel and his possessive arrogance!"

Moira tensed. She silently cursed. Fingers curled around the 9mm she still held. She watched as Ronon joined the other two at the Stargate. "You're right, Matthew," she smoothly agreed. "He can be a surly son of a bitch at times. Acting as if I belonged to him." She slid out of the seat, stood and turned.

Matthew smiled, gaze raking over her body. "You don't belong to anyone, Moira. You're a scientist. You don't belong with those military bastards. You should be with me."

He made to move towards her but she raised the gun, held it steady. "No, Matthew. Don't make me do this. You're not yourself. Think! The enzyme is affecting you! You have no interest in me, you never have!"

"You're a beautiful woman, Moira. Just waiting to be taken by a–"

"No!" She clicked off the safety, stopping him. "Don't make me shoot you. Think!"

John shrugged, hit the 'Gate with his fist. "Ouch!" He cradled his sore hand. "It looks fine! We won't be able to budge even if we tried!"

"Not without a naquada generator," Evan agreed.

"So that's it? We're stuck here?" Ronon asked. Scowling.

John looked at him, glanced at the Jumper. Glanced again seeing Moira holding a gun on Matthew. "Shit. Ronon!" He sprinted to the vehicle.

"You wouldn't shoot me, Moira, would you? I just want a taste of that delicious little ass that Sheppard is always shielding."

She fired. Hit the floor. "I'm warning you! Back off, now!"

"You fucking bitch!" Matthew was suddenly thrown to the floor, hit the wall. He went still.

"Ronon!" Moira said, as the Satedan hauled the botanists to the back seat. "No! He's–"

"Put him down, he's out cold," John said, glancing at her. "You okay?" She nodded. "Damn enzyme. Secure him there." He closed the hatch as Evan entered the ship, stared at the unconscious botanist.

"You sure you're okay?" Ronon asked.

She smiled. "Yes. Thanks, Ronon."

"Gun," John noted.

"What? Oh." She lowered the weapon, clicked on the safety. She moved back to the co-pilot's seat. "Well?"

John sighed, sat down. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with the DHD that I can see. The 'Gate looks fine but I'm no physicist." He briefly smiled at her, eliciting a smile in return. "I couldn't tell if there was some technical glitch or not."

"So we're stuck here," she said, echoing Ronon.

"Yes, for now. Once Atlantis can't dial through they'll contact the Daedalus to locate us. Shit. Without a wormhole we can't even communicate with them." He thought, tapping his fingers along the console. It hummed under his touch. "Unless we're in space...we can contact the Daedalus when it's in range. But that will be a few days...even weeks." He looked at Moira.

Moira was staring at him. At his drenched body, clothing clinging to every muscle. The blood-stained bandage on his arm. The water sparkling in his dark, unkempt hair. His stubbled, unshaven face. His fingers playing on the console.

He smiled, but turned to look somberly at the men behind them. "So we're stuck here."

"Sir, what the hell is Parrish's problem? Why would he attack Moira?" Evan asked.

"It's the enzyme. We've all been affected. It's diluted from the water. The moss. Secretions tainted the water supply. Even the fruit, maybe. It's a mild dose compared to actually eating the stuff, but it still affects the adrenal and hormonal glands."

"You want to say that in English?" Ronon queried.

John replied, "It's affecting your urges. To fight. To argue. To...you know." He glanced at Moira who was still staring at him. In a desirous, admiring way. He swore to himself silently. "And now it decides to affect her," he muttered. Looked at the men. "I think we're pretty clear of it, but Parrish...I bet he didn't...um...let's just say he didn't release it like you...um...did."

"What?" Ronon asked, brow furrowed in puzzlement.

Evan smiled suddenly, smothered a laugh. "Oh! That explains the...oh! But you...you recovered much, much faster than we..." He glanced at Moira. "You lucky bastard," he muttered.

"No, major. Nothing like that," John warned, glancing at Moira again. She seemed curiously unaffected by the lewd talk. Smiled slowly at him. Invitingly. John cursed to himself, tore his gaze from hers. "I mean yes, but not what you think."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Ronon complained.

"When you woke up this morning. You had..." John gestured, awkwardly aware of Moira.

Ronon stared. Grinned. Comprehended. "Oh, that? We all had?"

"Yes," John tried not to laugh as Evan smothered his hilarity behind his hand. "Because of the enzyme. And your...how do I say this? Your behavior before, towards Moira. When you woke this morning with...you know...and took care of that, um particular problem the enzyme was removed from your system. Understand now?"

Ronon considered. "Oh. When I...oh. Oh! The enzyme did that? Really? To all of us?"

"We should have bought it dinner, I guess," Evan jested. The three men burst into laughter.

Moira smiled, embarrassed but unable to stop staring at John. Fixated on his motions. His movement. His handsome face breaking into a smile of amusement. Brilliant green eyes sparkling. Shifting in his seat. Beads of water trickling along his sideburns, along the slope of the nape of his neck. The quick darting of his tongue as he licked his lips.

"Is Moira all right?" Ronon asked when the hilarity had passed.

"Yes, she's fine. Pissed, but fine," John answered.

"Why isn't the enzyme affecting her?" Evan wondered, glancing at her.

John shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's a guy thing." They laughed again.

"Slower metabolism," she finally spoke. John met her intense gaze. "It takes longer to affect the female of the species. That's why there are no women here."

"I wondered about that," Evan commented. "What happened to the women?"

"They're all dead." They stared at her flat assessment.

"Dead? How?" John asked, gaze locked with hers.

"Killed. Probably inadvertently. By the men. Hyped on the enzyme and lacking higher brain functions they had devolved into mindless savages. Could only react the simplest, most animalistic urges. To fight. To kill. To have sex." Her voice was soft, calm. Her gaze wandered over him again.

John shifted in his seat. "And the women wouldn't have been similarly affected?"

She smiled. "Oh, they would have. But not as lethally. Not as aggressively. Instead of choosing any man they would have singled out one. Only one. Chosen. Wanted. The alpha male of the pack. Which would have set the others to fighting. To killing. To destroying. Lacking higher brain functions." She briefly touched his now still fingers on the console. Stood. "Let's see if we have any food. I'm starving. And so thirsty."

John stared after her. She sounded like herself again but the undercurrent of her earlier words had aroused him. Concerned him. Made him oddly smug as her attention, her desire was solely riveted on him. He glanced at the other two men who were staring, astonished. "Let's eat," he agreed, breaking the spell with normalcy. "I hope we have plenty of MREs. Major!"

Evan was staring after Moira, mouth hanging open. "Wha...yes, sir! We should have a few days worth of supplies."

***************************************************************************

John sat in the pilot's seat. The open hatch let in a cool breeze. Evan and gone to the DHD again to test it. Ronon was checking the perimeter. John stretched his arms, back, winced at the ache from the bullet injury. He could hear Moira behind him, looking through the packs. "I'm fine, Moira. I don't need–"

"You do need," she countered. Moving to him she ran her hands up his shoulders. Caressed. Leaned close. "I wish you had let me change your bandage," she pouted, touched the clean wrapping on his arm.

"No. Lorne did fine."

"I could have done better," she said into his ear, kissed his throat. Hands caressing his shoulders, back. Plying the muscles under the damp shirt.

John smiled. "I bet you could have, Moira, but no. Weren't you going to check on the DHD with Lorne?"

"I lied," she confessed, running her mouth along his jaw, side of his face. "I wanted to be alone with you, John."

"Oh oh," he realized, but not unpleasantly. "Moira, you said no eso until Atlantis. Remember?"

"Hmm...a woman can change her mind, can't she?" she purred, kissing him. Turning his head to capture his mouth with hers. "John, come closer. I want to feel you. It's only fair. You offered."

"I...what? Offered?" He caught her hands, freed himself. It took all of his self-control not to get up and pull her into an embrace.

"Yes, flyboy, you offered to return the favor. Well, I'm asking. Now. Do you want to feel how much, how very mich I need you to bring me, John?" She guided his hand between her legs. "To take me, John?"

He bit back a moan. Moved his hands from her body. "It's wet clothes, that is all," he tried to reason.

She laughed against his skin, a sultry, erotic sound that made him react. "That's not all, John. Not by far." He heard her unzip her pants. Closed his eyes, fighting against it. She guided his hand to her. He only halfheartedly pulled away but she kept a grip on his fingers. "Not even close...oh..." His fingers brushed her wet panties. "I guess those are wet too...but not from the pool...not at all..." She guided his fingers into her panties. Moaned softly.

John's restraint snapped. He pulled his hand free. Stood. Propelled her backwards to the wall and kissed her. Thrusting against her. She murmured, pulling him closer, shoving her body against his. Rubbing along him, thighs parting. His mouth captured hers, probing, possessing as his hands ran along her body. He felt her eagerness, her need. His own racing to meet hers. With an effort he stepped away. Grabbed her pants, roughly zipped them. Zipped up his own as she had somehow undone them. "Damn it, Moira! Now?" he demanded, irritated. Tense.

She smiled. "John...please."

His gaze fell onto Matthew, still unconscious. "What about him?"

"He's jealous of you. Jealous of the alpha male of the group. Let him see why," she urged, kissing him again.

He freed himself. "Now I know you are hyped on that enzyme. Damn."

"It's still me, John. Just a really, really horny me." She laughed.

He grinned. "Fine. The things I have to do for you, Moira." He grabbed her hand, pulled her out of the Jumper.

"Sir?" Evan turned as John pulled Moira behind him roughly.

"Taking five, major. Don't ask."

"Okay, sir," Evan agreed, grinning.

John swore to himself. "It's not what you think, major!"

"Of course not, sir."

John pulled her into the tree-line. Moira followed on his heels, other hand sliding along his back, down to his rear to pinch. "Hey! Hands off my ass, O'Meara!"

She laughed. "Where would like my hands, sweetie?" she teased. "Where are you taking me? When are you taking me? How are you going to take me, John?"

"Cut it out, Moira! Your mouth," he muttered, but found himself full of anticipation.

"Are you going to take me, John? Take me hard?" she teased.

"Yes," he agreed. "I may have to take you hard to free you of that damn enzyme. Will that work?"

"I want you completely, sweetie," she insisted, following on his heels. "No simulations. No pretend sex. No oral sex, no heavy petting. I want real, unclothed sex, John. I want you to completely and utterly fill me! I want you so fucking deep inside me you'll lose your–"

"Moira!" he cautioned sternly, whirled. She bumped into him, flung herself into his arms. "I can only take so much! Will that clear you?"

She smiled. "Clear me completely, John. Over and over and–"

"Focus! Will that clear you of the enzyme?" he demanded. "Think!" He gently shook her.

She considered. "Hmm...it should. Yes." She smiled. "If not we can always do it again. Isn't that right, soldier? Can you deploy that big, hard ordnance more than once? Do you want to fuck me, John?" She tilted her head coyly.

He kissed her, shoved her body against his. "Over and over," he agreed harshly into her ear.

She squirmed. "Good! So do it! I know you can get it up," she teased hotly. "Over and over."

He glanced round. "This is absolutely–"

"Wonderful," she finished for him. "Here. This way, sweetie." She took his hand, led him under a tangle of swinging boughs full of huge leaves. "I can't wait for Atlantis, John. I really can't. If we're going to be here for days and days, or weeks...I can't wait that long. Can you?"

"No...I guess not when you put it like ow!" He drew back his hand as he ducked after her, shoving a vine aside. He straightened, stared. The shaded glen was full of wild roses. Large blossoms. Shades of red and pink. Their heady fragrances filled the warm air.

Moira turned to him. "Isn't it beautiful, John? You...oh! Did you hurt yourself?" She took his hand. Examined the faint scratch, the faint line of blood welling to the surface. "I'll kiss it and make it all better, honey. Don't you worry." She kissed the scratch, ran her tongue along it. Ran her tongue and lips up to his forefinger. Inserted his finger into her mouth and teasingly sucked.

John stared, transfixed. Aroused. "Moira...are you sure?"

She freed his finger. Smiled. Stepped further into the glen. Unzipped her pants. Removed them. "What does it look like, John?" She lifted her arms to removed her shirt. "Now take off your clothes. Or shall I do it for you?"

His gaze devoured her. Especially as she removed her bra. Freed her hair to swirl wildly around her. Slid her hands along her panties. He smiled, practically tore off his shirt. "I just know I'm going to regret this," he muttered, helpless to stop. He removed his pants.

Moira smiled, beckoning. "No you won't. Come, John."

He moved to her, kissed her. Moved her gently down on their clothes, onto the carpet of flowers, careful of the thorns surrounding them. "Are you sure, Moira? Really, really sure?"

"Yes, John. Now stop talking," she argued, welcoming him boldly as her body squirmed under his. Legs opening in invitation. Demand.

"But what about–" His concerns faded as she yanked down his boxer shorts. Yanked off her panties and grabbed him. Guided him to her.

"Ah...just there, please, John...you offered, you offered," she urged, moaning. Arching. Sliding and squirming under him.

John forgot all of his arguments, concerns, restraints. Forgot everything but her. The woman writhing beneath him. Moaning, whimpering his name. Teasing, taunting him. Longing for his touches, his kisses, his sexual energies to finally, finally bring her to complete release. He happily complied, letting his mouth wander, his hands wander. Repeatedly thrusting until she achieved a spasmodic release. Coming hard, fast as he did. Then again, slower, surer, making certain the enzyme was gone but actually indulging in an hour of absolute sexual pleasure. Possession. Release.

Finally when they were done John rolled onto his back, exhausted. Sated. Satisfied. The sun beat down on him. He glanced at the blue sky. At his watch. The glen was no longer shaded. The subtle breeze was turning into a wind. Shaking the roses all around them. Plucking petals to swirl in the air, to land upon them. Soft curved kisses of reds and pinks. "Moira," he said lovingly. Tiredly.

Moira stared up at the sky, at the roses filling her vision as she turned her head. She quickly dressed, shaking out her damp, dirty clothing. She found her ponytail holder and fixed her hair. Wiped her hot face. Felt flustered, embarrassed but so satisfied. So very fulfilled. Calmer now that the driving need had been met. Even beyond what she had wanted. "I'm sorry, John." She swallowed. Her voice was a dry rasp.

He laughed, moved to get dressed. "Sorry? Whatever for? Ah...was this one of your own kinky fantasies, sweetheart?" he teased.

"No. Yes. I mean no...I'm sorry! Damn enzyme! I mean I don't regret it. I mean you were...you were amazing, John! I'm clear of the enzyme. You made doubly sure of that." It sounded like an accusation but he laughed again.

"I do what I had to do, for science," he jested. He stepped behind her, drew her against him. Kissed her throat. "My Moira."

"John..." She rested against him, closed her eyes. Caught his hands at her waist. "Do you really think we'll be here for days? For weeks?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so. Weeks more than likely. Why?"

"I miss my bed. And clean clothes."

He smiled. "Me too. The bed. The clothes not so much."

She elbowed him. "Hilarious, John!"

"True, Moira. And food. And beer. Lots of beer."

"Typical." She laughed. "Food. Ice cream."

"Hmm...ice cream. Oh yes."

She frowned, turned to see his suggestive expression. "Maybe not."

He laughed. "Don't you worry, baby. Ice cream is most definitely on the menu when we get back to the city."

"I don't think so, colonel." He smirked at her suddenly prim expression.

"We'll see, jungle queen. We'll just see."

*************************************************************************

Evan shrugged, circled the DHD again. Glanced again at his watch. Met Ronon's bemused gaze. "What?"

"Nothing. Get it to work yet?"

"No. Colonel Sheppard was right. I can't see anything wrong with it either. And he knows more about these things than I do but he's, um..."

"Busy," Ronon supplied. Grinned.

"Yeah, busy. That doesn't mean he's...I mean you really think they're..." Evan faltered, uncomfortable. Looked at his watch again. "It's been nearly an hour!"

Ronon laughed. "Without a doubt."

"Maybe not. Moira's more sensible than that."

"She's under the influence of the enzyme. She was looking at Sheppard like a leopard stares down its prey. Poor guy." They laughed.

"True. But the colonel is more cautious than that. And he's not under the influence any longer," Evan reasoned. Trying to find a more comfortable alternative.

"No. But if a woman looked at you the way Moira was looking at him would you refuse?"

"No. I guess not, since you put it that way." They laughed again. Evan sobered, seeing John striding out of the tree-line. Clothes straightened. Hair combed. Appearing completely normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

John met their gaze with an almost bored expression. "Major, anything?"

"No, sir. It's like you said. Completely fine. Nothing is missing. I 've even tried dialing a few other addresses but it will not engage."

"Hmm..." John circled it. "So we're stuck here."

"I knew that two hours ago," Ronon stated, shaking his head.

John scratched his stubbly chin. "Crap. How is Parrish?"

"Conscious. Sore. Back to being himself," Evan answered, gesturing towards the Jumper. He watched as Moira walked out of the trees. Hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Torn shirt and pants brushed clean of dirt. She glanced at the men briefly, entered the ship.

"Is Moira–" Ronon asked, grinning ear to ear.

John scowled. "Not a word. I mean it!" He looked at the Stargate. "Let's go for a spin. Check out that city, see if we can locate our friends. Pop into space and try to send a signal."

Moira paused on the ramp to the Jumper, seeing Matthew cradling his head. "Matthew?"

"Moira. What hit me? I don't remember anything," the botanist complained, gently prodding an ugly welt on his jaw.

She smiled. "You ran into Ronon. You'll be fine now." She moved to the packs, grabbed her jacket and pulled it on. She slid into the co-pilot's seat as the three men entered the ship.

John closed the hatch. Eased himself into the pilot's seat. Glanced at her. "Cold?"

She shrugged, stared out the viewport.

He smiled. "Strap in. The tour of M1K436 begins. Unfortunately we don't have any refreshments or even a movie. But we will include a brief jaunt into space."

The vehicle flew smoothly, riding the warm air currents as the wind buffeted the trees. They flew over the abandoned city. John cloaked the ship, lowered it to get a better view. The cavemen were swarming the ruins. Tearing blindly at the rocks. Acting out in rage, not in any coherent pattern.

"What are they doing?" Moira asked.

"Mindless destruction," John answered.

"Maybe they want to turn on the auditory inhibitor," Evan suggested.

"At least they're far from the 'Gate," Ronon noted.

"Yes. Here we go." John lifted, lifted the ship. Flew into the sky, zooming into the atmosphere. Into space. He tapped his earpiece, the comm unit. "Atlantis? Daedalus, copy? Hello?"

"I don't think they love us anymore, sir," Evan jested. They laughed.

"Apparently not, major," John agreed. "Daedalus, do you read? Helloooo...."

Moira smiled. "No rescue today, John. Unless you're scaring them off."

"Wonderful. All right, let's see what's on the other side of the planet. It's not like we anything else to do today."


	10. Chapter 10

Survival of the Fittest10

Moira stood in the shade of the Jumper, shielding her eyes against the harsh glare of the sunlight. She watched as the four men jogged around the emerald pool. It was their fifth lap. The botanist had fallen behind and had slowed to a walk, breathing heavily of the warm air. The three soldiers were neck and neck and neck. Heading round again for the sixth lap. Sunlight glinted off the pool, creating waves of green that shimmered in the hot air.

She shook her head, wringing out the last clean shirt she had salvaged from the packs. She hung it to dry over a drive pod with other assorted clothing. She set up a makeshift table hewn from broken logs. Seats were chopped stumps. She set out the piles of fruit on big leaves that served as plates. Checked the cooking venison on the open pit fire, not liking the source but understanding the necessity. She spread out the utensils scavenged from the packs. Bottles of water from the Jumper that were nearly empty now.

She stepped past the table, waited until they were on her side of the pool. "Heads up! Burgers on the grill, boys!" she shouted.

Not breaking stride the three men turned, jogged towards her. Matthew followed, his stride quickening at the offer of food.

Moira smirked at their disheveled, dirty clothes. Their bare chests beaded with sweat. Their incoming beards. All-over scruffy appearance. She tried not to stare, couldn't help herself. Comparing. Contrasting. Ronon's heavily muscled physique to Evan's leaner torso. Matthew's skinny build compared to John's muscled tautness. "Shirts," she warned, moving back into the Jumper. But turning to watch John. The sweat sparkling on his brow. Beads sliding down back. Sliding down his chest, dark hair tangled with it. The dog tags glinting silver. Drips of sweat sliding down his waist into his pants.

"What about shoes?" Evan asked, causing laughter. The men pulled on their t-shirts, snatching them from the drive pod.

"What? No shoes no service," she retorted, breaking from the distraction. She emerged as the men took their seats. She sat next to John as Ronon speared the meat with a knife. Cut and served it on the leafy plates.

"We're not doing too badly," Ronon noted as Matthew reached them. Pulled on his shirt took the remaining empty seat. "We've found fresh food. Fresh water from the falls." He glanced at Moira. At the messy fall of her mostly bound hair.

"You sound almost happy we've been here a week," John noted, making a face as he regarded the other man. Saw where his gaze had wandered.

"It could be worse, sir," Evan agreed as they ate. "Although I am tired of fruit." Evan noted the clingy, torn shirt Moira wore. It's color an indeterminate shading somewhere between green and brown. Revealing flashes of her bare waist as she moved.

"I'll second that, major," John heartily agreed. Imperceptibly scooting a little closer to Moira. "Where the hell is the Daedalus?"

"On the way, with any luck," Matthew hoped. "Even I'm sick of this planet and it is a botanist's dream." Laughter. Matthew shrugged, eyes on Moira. At his angle he could make out her lower back bared by the torn shirt. Her rear snug in the pants.

"Can you imagine if McKay was here?" John joked, but his glower directed at Matthew made the botanist lower his gaze. "We'd be out of food in a day."

"An hour," Ronon corrected. Laughter.

John eyed Moira. She was unusually quiet. Eating, drinking, laughing when they laughed. "Moira? Anything wrong?"

"No." She sipped her bottled water. She had noticed the men. Their stares, even without being aware of it. Felt her own stare lingering on each one for a few moments. Felt John beside her. Caught the motion of a bead of sweat trickling down his strong arm, sliding across muscle.

"I vote for fish tomorrow," Ronon suggested.

"Fish it is. If we can catch any," Evan noted.

"I can catch plenty. I don't know about you," Ronon challenged.

"As long as it doesn't taste like fruit!" Matthew declared. Laughter.

"Moira, do we need more water?" Evan asked, eying the emptying bottles.

"I'm afraid so. This is the last of ours."

"Damn. I'm not looking forward to that trek up the hills."

"None of us are," Ronon agreed. "We should find a closer water source. Maybe fly over the continent and relocate."

"No. We need to be in proximity to the Stargate," John argued.

"You really think they're still coming?" Ronon asked. "After all of this time?"

"Yes, I do. In fact," John paused to check his watch, "we'll have lift-off in one hour. Contact attempt as usual."

Moira stood. "That will give me time to finish the laundry." She gathered the remaining clothes off the drive pod, entered the Jumper.

"What's wrong?" Matthew asked, watching her disappear into the vehicle.

All eyed John. He frowned. "What?"

"What did you do, sir?" Evan asked.

"Me? Nothing! What?" John asked, perplexed.

"Go." Ronon pointed at the ship, began to clear up the mess they had made.

John sighed, shrugged. Entered the Jumper. Moira was kneeling on the floor, folding shirts and pants. Neatly placing them in each appropriate pack. He moved next to her, touched her shoulder. "Hey, Moira. Need any help?"

"No."

He caressed her shoulder. "Honey...is everything all right?"

"Yes, John." She briefly smiled at the endearment, at his hesitant tone. Resumed her task.

"Moira, you know we're getting out of here. As soon as the Daedalus arrives. Should be any day now. Promise."

"I know."

Her calm tone rattled him. He sat next to her. Caught her hands, stopping her. "Moira, what is wrong?"

She met his gaze. "Nothing is wrong, John. Why do you think something is wrong?"

"You're acting weird," he observed. "You're too quiet."

She smiled. "I thought you'd never complain about that."

He smiled. "I'm serious, Moira. Talk to me. You're still upset over the deer?"

"Muntjac, no. I know we had no choice."

"Is it the enzyme? You think we're still exposed to diluted doses?"

"Yes. We can't avoid it. It's in the water, the fruit, everything. But since we are aware of it we can take care of it accordingly. Like your morning jogs."

"Yes, that's one reason I instituted them. And your afternoon ones. Moira, I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know, John." She freed her hands to finish her task.

He searched his memory, perplexed. "The cramped quarters? We can sleep outside if you–"

"No, no, it's too dangerous. It's fine."

"The cavemen? We haven't seen them all week."

"So they're not a threat," she agreed.

"The sex?" he asked quietly, scooting closer. "Or rather the lack of sex. I know that bothers me."

She smiled. "That would. But no. I don't like it either but I can wait. As can you."

"Maybe," he grumbled. "Ah! Is it the beard?"

She met his gaze, laughed at his expression as he stroked it. "No."

"Once we get home it's gone. Promise."

"Okay. But it's not the beard."

He sighed. "Then what? Is it me? Did I do something?"

"No, John. It's not you, or anyone else," she added, seeing where he was going. "It's nothing, okay?"

"Okay. I guess." Disbelief. He considered. "Are you sure it's not the lack of sex, 'cause I can fix that, believe me."

She laughed at his sincerity. Kissed him. "No. I'm fine. Stop fussing. Go. Do your ship checks, will you? Don't we take off in an hour?"

"Yeah. But I want to make sure you're all right. Did something happen today? Last night? Are you certain it's not the lack of sexual–"

"John!" she laughed, playfully pushed him. "Go! Now. All right?"

He smiled, kissed her. "All right, jungle queen." He stood, moved to the front of the ship.

Moira finished, stood. Watched him prepping the ship. Checking the controls with meticulous precaution. She debated, biting her lower lip. Looked back out the Jumper. They were alone as the other men were clearing the mess, the fire pit. Laughing jovially.

"Well? Ready to tell me now?" he asked.

She whirled, startled by his perspicacity. He was still fussing over the console. Glanced back at her, gestured for her to come closer. She advanced slowly.

"Sit. Talk." He pointed to the co-pilot's seat. Leaned down to check the crystals under the console. He held a penlight in his mouth to double-check their alignment.

"Sex," she finally stated.

"Ow!" He banged his head on the console at the word. He straightened in the chair, rubbed his skull. "I said that."

She smiled. "Sorry. No...not that. It's me."

"You." He stared. "Sweetheart, I already offered if you want to end this drought of–"

"No, no. It's nothing. Get back to work," she noted, looking away from him, embarrassed.

He caught her arm, stopping her. "No, no, not so fast, Moira. You said sex. Talk. Now. If not the lack of it then what?" She was silent again. He sighed. Considered. "The glen of roses?"

"No."

"Bringing you in the cave, well almost."

"No." But she colored at the memory of his hand searching, seeking. Making her audibly react.

"Bringing me on the ledge with that delicious mouth of–"

"No!"

He stood, frustrated. "For God's sake, Moira, spit it out! I've run out of things to guess!"

She freed her arm angrily. "Of course you have, John! Nothing bothers you!" She stood, stomped out of the ship. "You have no idea, do you? Any of you!"

"Moira!" He cursed, moved after her. "Moira!"

"Fuck you, John!" she snapped, furious.

"Fuck me? Then fuck me, Moira! Fuck me!" He paused. All eyes moved from her to him. "What? I don't know what the hell her problem is! I didn't do a damn thing! She won't tell me!" he shouted. Nevertheless he sprinted after her. "Moira! Moira, slow down!"

She ignored him, swerving round the pool, into the tree-line. "Leave me alone!"

"No! Get back here!" he ordered.

"Fuck you, John!" she called over her shoulder, furious at how oblivious he was.

John grabbed her, spun her round. Pinned her to a tree. "Fuck me? Then do it, Moira! Please! Fuck me if you need to, want to, because I would like nothing better!"

"Let me go, you bastard!"

"No! Damn it, Moira, you're going to talk to me! Is this the enzyme?" he demanded, bewildered.

She pushed at him but he held her there. "Or what? What are you going to do to me, John? Fuck me?"

"Do you want me to?" he retorted, staring at her. Messy hair falling out of the ponytail. Torn shirt riding up past her waist as he pinned her to the tree. Brown eyes full of anger. He kissed her suddenly. Again. His hold loosened as she moved into his arms, hugging him.

"I...I'm sorry, John," she sighed.

"What the hell is wrong, Moira? Geez! Talk to me!"

"Sex," she muttered against his shoulder.

"Not that again," he said tiredly. "What about it?"

"It's me. Just me. I didn't think it would bother me but it does. I'm trying not to think of it but I do all of the time. It makes me uncomfortable. I can't help it! Especially after the, the glen of roses, the..." She broke off, holding herself against him again.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere. The glen?" he prompted. Stroked her hair. Could still smell the scent of the overwhelming flowers in her hair, on her skin.

"The glen." She sighed. "I wish...I wish..."

"What? That it never happened?" he asked tersely. Drawing back to view her face.

"No. It was wonderful...very, very...I mean, even without that damn enzyme it would have been so...oh John it was wonderful!" she gushed. Kissed him.

"Hmm, I agree. So...the glen?"

She sighed. Moved out of his arms. "You'll laugh."

"Laugh? Why would I laugh?" He pulled her against him. Wrapped his arms around her waist as they stared at the ferns. "Tell me."

"It's a...it's me. I'm just embarrassed."

"Why? Moira, it was still you. Hyped on enzyme and very, very...but it was still you. You don't have to be embarrassed about that. Not in front of me. Not at all. Hell, it's such a turn-on when you want me that much. When I want you that much." He kissed her brow. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about concerning our wonderful, wonderful sexual intimacy. Nothing."

"Not you."

"What?" He strained to hear her soft voice.

"Not you." She felt hot but oddly secure in his arms. His body pressed to hers. His voice near her ear. Breath stroking her throat.

"Not me?" He thought. Smiled. But tried to keep his voice serious. "Ah. Them."

"I knew you'd think it was funny!" she flared, hearing the merriment.

He tried not to laugh. "I'm sorry, Moira, but, well, it had to be done. I mean, well, the enzyme. In me. In you. I know, I know we weren't exactly discreet but under the circumstances I think we did our best. To be discreet."

"It...it doesn't bother you?" she asked, solemn as she turned to view his handsome face.

"No. I mean, maybe," he amended seeing her annoyance. "I'd rather keep our amazing exuberant sex private, but we didn't have a choice, did we? I don't mind being the envy of every guy on the planet, but hey, what can I do? You chose me. Only me."

She sighed. "Men! I knew it wouldn't bother you! Not like it bothers me. And...it's the enzyme."

She stared at his chest. Touched. "It's in all of us, John, however diluted. And the fact that nothing's happened yet, I mean...no one's had any kind of, um, reaction..."

"That's good, right? I mean, we all know about it. It's under control. The morning jogs, the labor in the afternoon. Working it out. Say...how exactly do you work it out?"

"I'm serious, John!" she scolded, meeting his amused gaze. "It's starting to affect us, though. Without any of you being aware of it. And I...I can feel it in me too. Affecting me on an unconscious level, just like you. If we, if we don't off this planet soon..."

"Nothing will happen," he vowed. "Nothing will happen to you, Moira. I'll do what I have to do prevent that. Trust me."

"I do, John, it's just...we can't let it go that far. Come to that. You know? And I don't know how to stop it. To arrest the enzyme already in our system. We're out of clear drinking water now. What are we going to do?"

"We'll keep it under control, Moira. Don't you worry. Unconscious or not we will keep it under control. I will." He ran his fingers up her arm. "No one touches you but me. And believe me, subliminally or not they know that." He grinned. "Especially after the glen they sure do."

She frowned. "Men! I just wish, I just wish I wasn't under all that scrutiny. All that knowing scrutiny every day. I just want to be alone with you, John! In my bed, alone with you. After a really, really hot shower."

He smiled. "I'd like nothing better, Moira. That Jumper floor is killing my back. And I want to be alone with you. I want you all to myself, in my arms. Completely."

"I bet," she noted sarcastically. "John, what are we going to do?"

He gently moved strands of hair back from her rosy face. Kissed her. "Do? Now? I can think of a few things, Moira, but we need to check for the Daedalus first."

She smiled, tapped his shoulder. "No! I mean when we get back to Atlantis."

"Do? Exactly what do you said. Hot shower. Hot meal. Cold beer. Or two. Then your bed. Just the two of us. I'll put out the do not disturb sign."

"Promise?" she relented, eying him.

"Promise." He kissed her again. "All right?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"Any time, Moira. Just remember what you said. Eso me, Moira, once we get back."

"Eso me, John, got it," she answered. "I just wanted you to be aware, but I didn't want to tell you. In case you went all alpha male and all. On them."

"I see. Don't you worry, Moira. We can handle this. All of us. If not...I'll handle it."

He led her back wordlessly to the Jumper. The men stared, silent. "Let's go! Problem's sorted." He sat in the pilot's seat, waited for everyone to take theirs. "Here we go again." He flew the ship higher, higher. Broke atmosphere. "Atlantis, do you copy? Daedalus, do you copy? Hello?" Silence.

"Looks like we may need to build a house, sir," Evan noted.

"Or move into one of those caves," Ronon suggested.

"Maybe we can reach the nearest planet," Matthew offered.

"I already checked. It will take a year at sublight. Daedalus, copy? Hell–"

"Colonel Sheppard? This is Daedalus. Acknowledge," came Steven Caldwell's voice.

A whoop erupted in the Jumper. John exchanged a smile with Moira. "Colonel Caldwell, we've been looking for you every day! What's your twenty, sir?"

"Just broke hyperspace on the planet's far side. Fly on over. We'll leave the door open."

"Thank you, sir! On our way!"

"Is everyone all right, lieutenant colonel?"

"Yes, sir. We're all fine. Sheppard out." John glanced at Moira. "Hey, we will be fine, right? I mean, the enzyme?"

"Yes...once it clears our systems," she agreed. But wondered.

*************************************************************************

Moira turned at the knocking on the cabin door. She opened it. Smiled. "Colonel Sheppard? I hardly recognize you."

He smiled, entered the room, eyes on her freshly showered hair, clean blue shirt and gray pants. "I could say the same, Doctor O'Meara. What happened to my jungle queen? I decided not to wait." He ran a hand over his clean-shaven face. His clean gray shirt and black pants were crisp. "Better?"

"Much. I couldn't stand those filthy rags anymore!"

He grinned. "I don't know, jungle queen. They were quite fetching."

She laughed. "You mean revealing. What's our ETA?"

He sat on the bed. "Two hours."

"How is your arm?"

He glanced at the fresh bandage. "Fine. Healing slowly. Everybody's bunked down for the night after a meal. A brief report to Caldwell." He frowned. "No beer yet, though."

"We're halfway there, then," she commented, sitting next to him. Glanced at him. Smiled. "I know what you're thinking, John, but this mattress is too hard. Harder even than yours."

He ran his hand over it. "Damn, so it is." He smiled, touched her thigh. "Do we wait?"

"Yes. We're not exactly alone here. And this cot is so small..."

"True." He sighed, stood. "Rest. We're almost home. Halfway there, as you said."

She smiled. "Are you sure, John? I wouldn't want you to be in any, um, difficulties because of the enzyme."

"Hilarious, Moira. If I feel any, um, difficulties coming on I know where to find you. And you're right, that cot is too small and too hard. I'm tired of hard surfaces." He grinned. "I can only hope you're not tired of any hard–"

She laughed. "Enough, colonel!" She stood, kissed him. "I'll see you when we disembark. Won't I?"

"Yes, Moira. Let's give it..." he considered, brow furrowing as he thought, "a day or two. A night or two, I mean. Once we're back, given our reports. Settled into normal routine. Maybe a few days. Carson will probably check us over, and it will take a few days to be clear of that damn enzyme, won't it?

"I think so. Maybe. It's strange. Maybe because it is diluted. We're not as, um, affected as before. Remember?"

"Yeah, it's hard to forget that experience." He smiled. "Not that I want to. Except for the puking. That I can do without."

"Me too," she agreed, causing him to smile. "How do you feel?"

"Cleaner. Frustrated. But otherwise fine. You?"

"The same." She paused. "Look, John, don't feel you have to...that is, don't feel obligated to...um...we don't have to...I mean, don't feel you have to–"

"Oh, I have to, believe me, jungle queen," he teased, moving to the door. "I'm just making certain our discretion card is back in play, that's all." He winked. "Then other things can be put into play. Don't you worry, baby."

She sighed. "Will you stop calling me baby?"

"Only if you stop calling me sweetie. Goodnight, Doctor O'Meara."

She smiled as he opened the door, stepped out. "Goodnight, Colonel Sheppard."


End file.
